Guardian Angel

i had dinner with damara tonight.

i first met her in the student union at the university of michigan. she was there for a national co-op conference and i was about to move to santa cruz, where she lived. i remember that moment vividly. finding her in a vast, empty hall. exactly the person i needed to meet.

she invited me to crash when i came to visit the following week. a month later, i ended up living with her and twenty-four others in her big co-op victorian on top of beach hill. we shopped, ate, cleaned, and decided everything together. done by concensus. my life at twenty.

now i'm thirty-one. damara is a lawyer. but despite her warnings of looking old she looks as i remember her. and speaks and sounds and reacts as i remember her. which is all good. she was my guardian angel back then, lifting me from the miserable michigan winter to the beauty of santa cruz. getting me drunk when i turned twenty-one on long island ice teas. me and her and jila-la-la stumbling down the street arm in arm. playing trash softball. being young.

we eat sushi and rehash the past five years since we last saw each other. reminisce over the rest of our old housemates. remembering old stories and telling some new ones. damara says, "you're lucky. that's what i remember about you."

and i am. i have the most fantastic luck. it just isn't always good.

~ ~ ~

jeez. post some pie fight pictures and all of a sudden you've got non-stop traffic from the ultimate messy directory.

uh.

i guess i'd just like to say, "welcome, but please clean up after yourselves." and i may regret this, but do you want to tell me about it? mess is not my thing, really, but hey. i like a good story.