Experiencing the creative genius of one of my very closest friends at Cherry Lane Theatre was too wonderful for words. I felt like a privileged audience member, because none of the Southern reference was lost on me (so I laughed louder than anyone) and because I've known Abby for 11 years and recognized the nuanced ways in which it was so completely and wholly her own voice (so I cried harder than anyone). To say I'm proud would be putting it lightly, but I'll leave it at that to avoid embarrassment. Her potential, both writing for and standing on the stage, is huge. I've always known she has an electricity about her, and that she is smart as hell, but to see it fully realized blew me away. Abby is my letter writing confidante of ten years with whom I exchange my deepest secrets by pen. I struck mailbox gold with that one.
I am invigorated beyond measure by the city's palpable creative energy, available to anyone, at anytime for the taking. Inspiration is everywhere - from the Williamsburg shops, to the tiny lettering on the house covered in Bible verses, to the restaurants on every corner. And oh, the Big Gay Ice Cream Shop. And good design is so easy to find. New Yorkers are just spoiled by great design, without even having to look for it. Is the inspiration lost when you live there, or is it multiplied, never ending? I need to know, either by moving or visiting much more often. I miss that easy bus ride from Baltimore.
As proud as I am of Abby, and as much as I love New York, this weekend's takeaway is gratitude. I feel immensely thankful for the great, Steel Magnolias-style female friendships in my life. Two days with Abby and Maggie reminded me of the women who have carried me when I needed them, laughed with me, cried with me, understood me at 17, 18, 24, 28. They inspire and sustain me. How blessed we are to share this crazy life with something that can be described in all its beauty and complexity as simply as this: an understanding.