Once you're done marveling at her business success, then, like me, you might come to believe that she's achieved even greater success with her family and friends. At least, that is how I felt as M welcomed me into her fold on Easter. I rolled into town, not having seen her for nearly 20 years, and she left her house key under the doormat for me. Her son, H, let me have his bedroom for the night. Her husband, B, let me eat his pizza. Her mother, Mrs. G., kept making me mimosas and somehow even made me feel manly in the process. Her brother, N, talked to me about his journey like we were the best of friends. And her grandfather, DC, generously tried to sell me his condominium.
If I had to be away from home, M's house might be the place I'd want to be. They just make you feel like it's home. Except for Kevin, the cat. He frightened the hell out of me. I'm not even going to protect his anonymity here.
So there it is. I had a wonderful time with M and her people. I'm not sure how she, or anybody else, defines success. But for me, even if she ends up being a bazillionaire, I'll still think about that day with her friends and family as my understanding of her success.
I needed some consistency. I needed to see something that was just as I remembered it twenty years ago, and I found it tonight when I met up with B and D. Maybe nothing lasts forever, but these two friends from high school are still two friends from high school. Unlike me, they hadn't gone twenty years without talking to one another. They had spoken the night before and had even gone to a movie together earlier in the day. They, along with some others from high school, speak to each other regularly. I don't really have any friendships like this. And while I'm not necessarily sad about this fact, it did make me extremely happy to see that they did. Here's to hoping that they'll still be friends in another twenty.