Three years ago, friend Amy and I dressed up as Dr. Horrible and Penny (no one got it, by the way. We lived in sad, unnerdy times). Saw “Macbeth.” Traipsed through downtown bars. Danced with friend David. Ran into boss at the Red Martini.

Fast forward three years. Friend Amy is in graduate school to get her master’s in library science. I’ve been living and working in D.C. for two and a half years. Friend David is married and living somewhere in Oregon. Old boss has a baby. And last time I checked, the Red Martini was a bar called Würk, and I don’t think it’s even that anymore.

Had you told me any of this on that Halloween night in 2009, I probably would have thought you were insane.

And yet, here we are.



I absolutely failed at that daily blogging thing. Three W’s could accurately summarize what the last six months have consisted of: work, weddings and wine.

I really only wanted to blog for one reason — a college friend of mine died this past weekend. We worked at the school paper together. As the news of his death has spread, I keep seeing new updates on Facebook: statuses about memories with him, profile photo changes to feature him, etc.

It just made me wonder about why we save this outpouring of friendship and love for the end. We can only tell each other what we remember about him. We can’t tell him, and isn’t that the saddest part of all?

I guess the point of this is, I don’t want to save all of my fond memories and fun photos for when people are gone. I want to tell them, right here, right now.

So, you. Yeah, you. I appreciate you. I appreciate whatever it is you’ve brought to my life. Thanks. Really. Truly. Thanks.