Love wagon

I woke up this morning at 6:30 to hear the softness of the rain washing down the streets of Los Angeles. And—for whatever reason—I started thinking about the people in my life that I love, and I wondered if that list has some sort of capacity limit. I imagined a Love Wagon of some sort. Is there only room for a certain amount of people? As people fall off the Wagon as the years trickle by—as you lose them to traffic and accidents and tragedies and the stream of life--and others hop on for the ride, does it just even out somehow?

I wondered if there was a weight limit. I can only pull so much. I thought of emails I have to write and people I owe a call to and the minutes and the hours in a day.

I thought of friends I had in college. These people are still in my life, of course, but not in the same aspect. These friends were made for late night phone calls and shenanigans at the bars that lined Mill Avenue. They were built for barbeques and sparkling New Years Eves and quiet study sessions, just the sound of breathing and the occasional page turning of a textbook. If they called me now, if they needed me now, I will be there. But are they there for a lifetime?

Some of them are, yes.

I thought of the friends I have in my life that I without a doubt know are there for a lifetime. The girls who call me Dr. Jo and come to me for advice even when they know I may not have the answers. The ones I snuck out with in high school (out the back door, near the guest room, around the corner to the side gate). I thought of the firsts and the silliness of high school problems. Boys and dates and trying not to eat to be skinny. The looming shadow of college.

I mulled over the friends I have made in Los Angeles. Some of them, the Marylanders, I am tied to by the past. These faces that I rode the bus with in Maryland and now they have reappeared to become my neighbors in this big city. Others are purely random friends and I will be honest and admit: I love some more than others.

I wondered why.

My ex Roomie and her boyfriend, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for those people. They are of the purest sort, hearts of gold and they are lifetime friends. This I know. My friend S, it’s as though I am tied to her with a rope. She is my soulmate friend. She was made for wild nights and concerts and saki and parties.

And, last, I wondered about the guys I have loved (and I have been lucky to have loved a few). The Ex who I loved and knew it wasn’t right. The high school boyfriend that I grew up with. The one I said, “I love you” to in college and when he told me he loved me 7 months later, it was too late. Jo, think we’ll know each other forever? Maybe, maybe, I don’t know.

Maybe my love isn’t a wagon after all. Maybe it’s a giant cake. And the icing lays in crinkles and ripples and soft buttery waves, and perhaps it just all evens out in the end.