Everyone has at least one friend who professes to be the luckiest girl in the world, to be so blessed, to have the best family and friends in the world. (And that friend typically communicates her blessings via Facebook status.) That friend is not this girl.
I don’t mean to say that I don’t consider myself to be lucky, to be blessed, to have the best family and friends ever. I live a very fortunate life filled with wonderful people whom I love dearly, but you won’t catch me updating my Facebook status to share this with everyone I know. Not only is that not my style, if one of your friends is struggling with something in his/her life, it makes him/her feel worse. When you’re having a bad day and feeling less than blessed, the most obnoxious thing you can see or hear is someone talking about how perfect her life is. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound.
ANYWAY.
When I moved to Virginia, I met some lovely people. I never expected to have a huge circle of friends or to have as much fun as I did, but I was wrong. (And I am so glad to have been wrong.)
I realized last night that I am lucky to have these people — not only because they have been some of the best friends I have ever had but because they are all such good people. They are smart and funny and talented and charming and kind and ambitious and flawed and wonderful, and I love them. I am unbelievably proud of everything they have accomplished and everything they will accomplish. When people ask me about how one of them is doing, I can’t help gushing.
And then I realized that it’s not just the people I’ve met here, it’s almost every person I consider to be my friend. That’s quite a few people. I’m certain that everyone feels this way about his or her friends, and I hope, more than almost anything in the world, that I never take them for granted.
If we’re only as good as the company we keep, I’m in good shape.
