Sunday, February 5, 2012

Sunday Memories At One Hellava Birthday Party

Morgan turned 60.

We all gathered at Ginger's Bar, unimaginable we would miss a chance to adore the friend who never wavered in her decades of love for any of us.

And in between drinks and cake, we also reveled at the years of knowing and remembering and held dear to one another because 60 used to be old and now it was us soon or us a while ago.


In those long ago times, we had woven tender ties with one another, making family out of friends and surviving a world that didn't recognize the complexity of who we were and what we did. (Because of Pops, Joan and Judith, there was a place that demanded such acknowledgment and it still thrives today.)


And here we all were, with different alliances, different loves, different cities, and, in the case of Ruth, a different state.


I don't know all the stories each of us has about Morgan. I just know 11,000 days multiplied by a bar full of fierce friends is what I hope for when I'm lucky enough to have another birthday.



3 comments:

CG said...

Sweet!

mybabyjohn/Delores said...

Isn't it funny how "old" just keeps sliding further and further away the "older" you get? I'm sure even at 90 I will be laying in my coffin screaming "I'm too young to die".

c.o. moed said...

LOL! Hell yeah, mybabyjohn! Hell yeah.