A note to my girlfriends

It feels like a house after all the wedding madness is over. The cushions all over the place, cigarette butts lying in ashtray with lipstick marks – cherry red, candy pink, cocoa brown, the sink is filled with wine glasses and kullads and I can still hear the echoes of your laughter, your voice.

We are four beautifully flawed women who are unlike any other gang of girls. We don’t meet every weekend to go shopping or clubbing like the Sex and the City ladies. One because we are real and two because we don’t have the inclination to splurge that kind of money. No wait. We don’t have that kind of money. We don’t schedule pedicures together or speak to each other every day. We genuinely make plans, knowing they’re going to flop. But the point is, we never give up on each other; because we are all we’ll have when the men leave.

We’ve all come a long way in spite of living in four ends of the city, literally. And I’m proud of you guys for not breaking this sonsakhli (chain of gold). I know it’s not easy. Certainly not when your family exudes the chaos of a reality show, a circus and an adventure park – all rolled into one. But you still manage to squeeze in those few hours. For us.

We fight, lie and spin countless stories to be with each other. Probably because our meetings are so therapeutic. They help us break out from the dark cocoons of our life and gain a fresh perspective on the world. Keep us sane.

And the best part? The fact that we’re so different. Imagine how boring our lives would have been if we had to work at the same place and talk about the same people every day! I love that when we meet, we have a myriad stories to tell. Wander we do, through books and journeys and experiences, only to return – with a bookmark, a packet of banana chips or flavoured cigars, a handmade soap and mounds of love. Because, in the end, we are all we’ll always have.

 

 

 

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