Evy Michalos
The pool was fun, the night is cold, and here I am talking with a friend before bedtime. My hair, don’t even get me started. Damp, yes, and still drying. Natural curls and waves coiling and winding. Unruly and untamed. I don’t care. I’m sitting relaxed on the floor, fuzzy grey sweatpants on. I’m leaning my back against the couch, hands in my pockets. A stretched t-shirt hanging comfortably on me, feet bare and free. It’s warm. The night is cool and my feet are chilled but it is warm.
We’re laughing together. We talk about anything really. Banking, real-estate, music—Yes Man scenes playing in our peripheral vision—Hulu plus, emails, tv shows. We talk about our fears, our families, that cool Japanese restaurant on the corner. But the mood turns dark. His anxieties come to light. I calm him, soothe him. His happy go lucky self returns. Back again.
He likes graphic design. I like walking. He is fascinated by Hamptons mansions. I like libraries. He likes cats while I like dogs. Well, no. Actually we both have pet rabbits and I also have a dog and he has two parakeets. But hey, you get the idea. Here we are, two different people (and different gender I might add). Yet, we talk about the future. We talk about the present. We talk about life. Us. Just for us. Sitting here talking with a friend before bedtime and I think,
“Ah yes. This is what it means to have a friend”.
