At first it seemed we may be friends, bonding over inappropriate jokes and a love of food. During my second, awful pregnancy and even though our jokes had turned mean and our humor insensitive, you still snuck me bowls of cassoulet, often it was the one thing I could keep down. By the end of your time at the restaurant we were less than friendly, I made a mean joke about your ego, I can’t remember your retort.
After a few years I ran into you at Britt, you were sick then, how far I didn’t know, I had heard bits and pieces from our mutual friends, I apologized that day in line waiting for ice cream. I began running into you more frequently, at farmers markets and social gatherings.
The last time I saw you was this summer, again at Britt surrounded by people who love and adore you, this time we all sat together, I had tequila soaked watermelon and other things for the first time. There was laughter and selfies and joy.
Thank you for helping me learn about forgiveness, thank you for nourishing me during one of my lowest times, thank you for always being unapologetically you.