Lily came by the other night. She’d wanted to talk with me about something, and after some small talk she told me that her mother wanted to move into a seniors’ community. Lily is going to rent out her place and move into her childhood home, which is this ginormous Mediterranean-style place a few blocks away. She wants me to rent my place out and move in with her to help with expenses. She says that Dog and Dog’s Cat are welcome to come, too. Even after I reminded her that the cat keeps vomiting up hairballs.
This house is gorgeous. The street the house is on is absolutely gorgeous. Lots of giant trees and gentile neighbors. I’m not ready to make a permanent move with anyone else right now, and with Boy moving out later this month, I have to admit the idea holds more than a little appeal. I’ve never lived alone, and I really don’t want to live alone. Both of us are so busy, we’re almost never home anyway.
There are lots of bedrooms, a library, a great room, a kitchen, a dining room. She said I could have the back of the house, and we’d share the common spaces. By sharing operating expenses, the money we’d be paying her mother is marginal. If I can rent my place, I’d be saving money.
Hmm… Definitely something to think about.
Went out to hang with the girls last night.
A young, single mom who works in one of our other departments asked me to come over to her place last night to drink wine and spend time with a few other moms who work for the company. I don’t know about you, but when someone junior in my organization asks me to do something social and it doesn’t involve a visit to a crack house, I make it a point to show up. It’s just one of those things.
She’s just a sweet, smart, gorgeous girl who’d fallen for a man who left her when she was eight months pregnant to marry an ex-girlfriend, proving once again that even ex-cheerleaders who are sweet and smart and gorgeous get their hearts broken.
They both work for the company, and it’s just a tension filled situation for everyone around. One of her supervisors had asked me to mentor her during a particularly tough period, and over the last few months, I’d managed to build a relationship with her. She’s had some hiccups along the way, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders. And her daughter’s an absolute doll.
She’d said to arrive between six and seven, so I left my house at six forty-five after I doled out kisses all around. Then I swung by the liquor store down the street to pick up a bottle of wine and headed over the bridge to her place.
I was the first to show up, and I got down on the floor to play with her daughter who’s now a little over a year old. She and I alternated colored blocks in a stack, finally a child who’s as OCD as I am, and knocked them down, while her mom and I chatted about boys and life and work. Then we read an Elmo book on using the potty while her mom went outside to wave in another mom who was having a hard time finding her way.
The three of us moms spent the night talking and drinking wine while the kids played and, then, slept. I got home by midnight and crawled into bed remembering what it was like to be a young, single mother and feeling exponentially grateful that I no longer had to navigate that life. Still, it’s nice to visit who you were once again, if for no other reason than to see how far you’ve come.