If I knew all the words I would write myself out of here.

Wednesday finds me tired and bleary. Lindsey left early for work and I struggle to get myself dressed and on the road. All these late night of catching up have started to take their toll. But I’m headed for San Diego to see an old college friend. Thing one and Thing two. My long lost twin, except taller and blonder. Katie and I met at the restaurant we worked at. I was a server and she was a hostess and on a slow night while I was hanging around the host-stand wishing to be cut early, we got to talking about some things. And it turned out we had a lot of similarities. Both of us from Pennsylvania, both creative writing majors, French and film minors. Our lucky number was twenty-two. And more strange, stupid, little coincidences all the way down the line. And as we reunited, two sisters, separated at birth, we formed a friendship that has maintained itself in strange forms over the years. After college Katie moved back to PA but we kept in touch here and there. Myspace friends and emails. Modern technology holding us tight. And although we didn’t talk on a regular basis I found my thoughts wondering to her quite often and wondering about her new life. She had since moved to San Diego where I imagined her tan and writing for Real Age magazine and hanging out with Jason Mraz. And when we did talk it was like I had just seen her. Filling each other in on what had transpired in the days between. I like this about her. That she’s easy to be with and interesting and silly and similar enough to me to remind me that I can be pretty fun, but different enough to keep things new and exciting. Family. Over the course of this trip I’ve realized I’ve got a pretty big family. Lot’s of parents and a whole mess of siblings. Thanksgiving would be totally hilarious. And so it is that I am off to see my “sister”. My twin.

With Whole foods bag in hand, she walks up her driveway towards me. She looks exactly as I remember her. And she says the same about me. A few years older, but we look the same as our days in Wilmington. My hair might be a bit longer. We introduce our dogs. Caesar would be proud. And we sit on her back deck and talk and tell stories and wait on her boyfriend to get home from work. She just got back from Italy. So we swap travel stories and reminisce and make dinner. Pizza is on the menu, but ever since the marathon I have been steering clear of any and all dairy related “food-type-products your local grocer might try-an’sell you.” And Katie is excited because she just wrote an article on exercise induced anaphylaxis. It’s rare. And now she knows someone first-hand who has experienced it. Yay me. If it’s strange and rare, chances are I will get it.

So we decide on spinach salads and garlic shrimp instead. And we drink wine and stay up late talking. And she tells me she wants to travel more, but her real world job and cushy health insurance plan have her tied down. She’s in a relationship and he has gotten his traveling out of his system. Seen the country. Seen the world. Going would probably mean leaving him behind. And I am instantly excited by my freedom. I can see it from a different perspective. All this floating is a blessing. I am not a vagabond or drifter. I am not alone. I am on a mission of sorts. I am working. Collecting snapshots and story lines. Carrying you all close to my heart. It’s a job without the sharp corners of the corporate world. But like I said before, I am growing more accustomed to the roundness or things.

And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don’t worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will be changed.