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Life, lived properly, can take us on some pretty wild rides. It can take us a long, long way off the map, and that's the best way to find beautiful new places. Sometimes, though, the process of getting lost can leave us a little shaken and disoriented. Ever look up from your work and wonder where the fuck you are and how the fuck you got there? Yeah, that. Regardless of where you've ended up, that moment comes.

When it does, old friends are the touchstone, the centering force we come back to.

I've been a mom for a little over two years. A single mom for the better part of that time. A caregiver and corporate slack for nearly four. Now I'm an entrepreneur. It's not the life that I had planned. It's better. It's different. It's crazy. It's frustrating. It's amazing.

Lately though, I've been feeling a little alien here, in this domestic bliss. It's a far cry from where I was just a few years ago - storm lashed and all alone but for a cat and a bike and a writing desk.

I've spent the last twenty or so years of my life wandering and writing, beholden to no one but myself. It was wild and completely irresponsible, and in the end it wasn't working for me anymore, but it is a part of who I am. It's a part that's been put on hold while I care for my family. It's always there, though, burning signal fires from waveswept shores and peering out of cedar forests, waiting for me to return. Waiting for me to get it right.

My oldest friends recognize that part in me - just like I recognize it in them. With old friends there is a shared, if diverging, history. Of course, they see the woman I've become - the one who cooks three squares a day for a gaggle of family, who is opening her very first business, who herds wild children. But they also see all the things that came before. They see the whole, and that gives them a special place in my life.

Last week I was lucky enough to spend a few days with people who have been in my life for many, many years. It was like coming in from the cold. I've been working my ass off for the past few years; I didn't even realize I'd started running on empty. Those few days - the friends, the conversation, the food, the hugs - filled me up.

We converged in the city where we'd all grown up.We sat in livingrooms and hotel rooms and talked; we sat around dinner tables and in bars and talked; we caught up on years of life because yes life has flung us far. We gave hugs and shared stories of children and divorce, broken hearts and the deaths of parents. We quietly compared laugh lines and were blown away by how well we've all aged.

We're grownups now, twenty years later, and we're all on our own ride, and we all know how wild the ride can get. In those rooms, lit bright against the dark, we found in each other a grounding point. We were reassured that life is big and sometimes kind of scary, but so, so worth it. We told each other that we are doing well, and we are. We've taken on some pretty big challenges - art, music, writing, parenthood - and we're all finding our paths. It was good for the soul to see us all fumbling toward success, making it in our own way.

The days have wound down now, and we've all returned to the ride to be scattered far and wide again. This time though, we are filled up and ready to fight again for whatever dream we are chasing.

Y'all know who are. Thanks for a great weekend.