Lately, Seth and I have been having some of those big “life” talks – the kind that focus on the future, the kind that make you re-evaluate your relationships, the kind that leave you feeling like you have no idea what you’re doing or where you’re meant to be or what you’re meant to be doing. You know, the kind that lead to bickering and elevated stress levels and momentary breakdowns? There have been a lot of “I don’t fucking knows” and “what the fucks” and “oh my fucking gods” and “what ifs” — a lot of moments spent regrouping and talking to the walls. So when an old friend randomly texted me last week to see if I was available for happy hour, I jumped at the chance.

I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d actually seen her but I knew it had been years. She’d been busy following her career, traveling the country and making new friends where ever the road took her and I’d been busy — well, you know — doing that surprise domestic mom thing. Over the years, we’d kept in touch in small ways — texts here and there, snapchats back and forth, maybe a few emails every now and then. Whenever something big would happen (babies, moves, marriages) or a holiday would come around, we liked to wistfully text about meeting up when she was in town next – but time is hard to come by these days (and by these days I mean, adulthood).

As I drove down to meet her, I racked my brain trying to remember the last time we’d been together.

“Oh my God, it’s been forever — I can’t even remember the last time I saw you!”
“I do! We went to lunch. You told me you were dating Seth and you were 12 weeks pregnant with Matty!”
“Oh my God.”

We reminisced about old times and laughed as though a day hadn’t passed. We caught up on everything as if three and a half years wasn’t that much time at all. And the hours passed like minutes. We laughed, shared life stories and talked about our plans. We made travel plans for future rendévous and have ever intention of sticking to them. It was the best hour turned into four and half hours I’ve shared in a long time. As we hugged in the parking lot, I fought back tears. Isn’t it funny when the universe drops something in your lap and you think, “oh, that’s nice” and then you end up realizing it was EXACTLY what you needed, EXACTLY when you needed it and you had no idea how desperate you were for it? I drove home with a heart full to the fucking brim and an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

When I got home I told Seth about the plans we had made, how great it was to see her and how oddly reassuring it was. Seth, being the husband that he is, said, “Babe, you could have stayed out longer as long as you didn’t come home and puke on the floor.” I blame St Patrick’s Day 2016 for coinciding with my first happy hour post-baby. But this wasn’t just any happy hour where you depend on the booze to ease your life struggles, it was therapy in its purest form – an old friend with a heart of gold (the booze was just a plus).