A very dear friend of mine came to visit yesterday.  I am SO grateful to have her in my life.  She and I were best friends all through high school and through most of college.  High school was really, really hard for me, and I faced some pretty significant challenges in college as well, and she was always there for me.  I feel like it was she who kept my spirit alive during the really hard times in high school, with her love and her laughter.  I am so glad to have her in my life.

We weren’t in touch for years after college and just got in touch again about a year ago (maybe a little more?).  I am SO grateful to have her back in my life.  She came to visit yesterday, and she’s really the closest thing to family that I have.  She’s like a sister to me (in the way that women who don’t actually have sisters romanticize sisterhood– best friends without all of the bickering and rivalry!).  I am **so** glad that she’s in my life and that she’s going to be in Paulie’s life as well.  I feel like I don’t have a lot to offer Paulie, in terms of family– I’m not in contact with my family of origin at all, as they’re not safe people to be around.  But Norah is like family to me, she knows me so well, she even knows parts of me that Sweetie doesn’t know!  Sometimes I feel like there are parts of me that Sweetie will never truly get, parts of my past, since he’s never met my parents and didn’t know me in high school and college.  I feel like Norah is a safe repository for my past, the good things and the awful things, and she loves me like crazy just the same.  Her parents are deceased, and so she knows what it is to need your friends to be more than friends, to be your family.  She has an absolutely wonderful husband (like me!!) and if anything were to happen to Sweetie and me, they would be at the top of my list for who I’d want to raise my kids.  I asked her if she’d be Paulie’s Aunt Norah, and she said yes!!

I’ll say it again– I am so glad that she’s in my life and in Paulie’s life.  I don’t feel so empty or alone any more.

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