Badass Mutha

I look at this picture of myself at seven, eight years old, and think: Damn, look at my badass self. I am fearless and free.

I'm going to bring her back. She was a blast to hang out with.

I've recently been reacquainted with my friend Katherine. She and I were best buddies from first through third grade, and then I moved to Ohio for a couple of years, and when I came back to Wisconsin in sixth grade, she had moved away and I lost track of her. Over the years, and especially the last ten or so, I've looked for her on the internet. I found her a couple years ago on Google images (she is in real estate and they have headshots on their sites), recognized her instantly with a cry of joy, and emailed her. I found out she had been living in NYC almost exactly as long as I have. When we saw one another for the first time in thirty-odd years, we cried. Talking and laughing with her is as easy as it was when we were kids. She was always beautiful and goofy and daring and smart and nothing much seemed to shock her. She is the same today. I'm so happy she is back in my life, especially since I've been a bit unmoored and unsure of myself of late.

We both are a couple of badass muthas, behind those good-girl facades.