Despedida

I had dinner with the girls last night. It was for girlfriend Cha who's leaving tomorrow to settle down with her beau, Mark, in The Netherlands (soooo far way).

Everyone--Bev. Aries, Mav and auxiliary girls Denver and Daddy Alvin--was there except for Glen, who's at her boss' miting de avance in a galaxy far, far away. Listen in on the conversation and you'd know we aren't a bunch of carefree singles having a glorious night out.

The dominant topic was child rearing, settling down, office politics, child rearing and child rearing. The party broke off aorund 10:30, with Bev and me anxious to get home (her to the waiting pilot-hubby and me to slumbering Laila). The others went for coffee.

I felt nostalgic, looking aroud the table at these women. Mav, Bev and I are married with kids. Cha will too, soon. Glen as well. Aries, well, he's shy about discussing these things.

We started as girls partying together. Now we're women swapping battle stories of a newborn who refuses to sleep at night, the scandalous price of preschool education, the constant tug-of-war between family and career.

That dinner was supposed to be a despedida for Cha. Somehow, I felt it was a despedida for something else too. It's a despedida for a youthful, carefree past that, in all honesty, I don't regret getting past.

After a night of heavy partying years ago, I remember going home to an unlit and empty apartment and plopping down on a plain queen-sized bed. When I eased myself on the bed last night, I was careful not to wake Laila who, as usual, was hogging my pillow.

Laila's head was musty sweet and burrowed in the palm of her teensy-weensy hands, her rear protruding a little. She stirred a bit when I planted several pecks on her marshmallow soft cheeks but didn't wake.

This is my life now. And it fills me with warmth thinking about it.