My therapist was so real for saying the meaning of life is found in connection.
People hug their friends when they meet up and hug them a little tighter when it comes time to say goodbye. My grandfather rebuilt the broken rocking horse my grandmother had as a child, a gift from her father. There’s an indescribable ache that goes along with seeing someone you used to know intimately, the becoming of a common stranger. Coincidences that bind, one time I got an uber and the driver used to live in my home before me. It was the last place he saw his father alive as a child and he nearly cried when I told him the walls were still the same colour.
Has anyone ever gotten over their childhood best friend? Is that alone not a testament to the fact we are more than blood and bones.
It’s all about connection, friends.
