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Relationships

My People

I check my watch. Its time. The cold rain falls softly from the gray sky. I pull up the collar of my jacket to cover my ears. No thunder rumbling, no lightning zigzagging, no wind harassing. The rain simply falls in a quiet pattern.

I step out of my car and head towards the door, my boots sloshing through muddy puddles. I open the door and step inside, wiping my boots on the black rug. I pull my now damp jacket collar back down as the receptionist greets me.

Before I can tell her I’m meeting friends, I hear my name being shouted from an adjacent room. The receptionist and I both look in that direction. My friends sit around a round table, waving me over.

“I’m guessing that’s you?” The receptionist asks.

I nod with a smile.

“Enjoy your meal,” she says.

I head to the table where my friends all stand up to greet me, hugging me, shouting my name like I’m someone special.

To them, I am. These are my people, my friends.

The rain covers the windows in streams as we laugh and request endless amounts of chips and queso.

For a moment everything is perfect.

 

 

Comment
by Sastley78

I live in a small town in Oklahoma with my husband, our 3 children, and an array of dogs and cats we’ve rescued over the years. I love coffee, books, and Audrey Hepburn. I love music, but am not a fan of country, which is ironic considering where I live. My eldest child has cerebral palsy; raising him has forced me to view the world through a different lens. I’m actively involved in fundraising, oh, and I love to write!

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