. Villages .

This morning, I told someone that my life went from perfectly amazing to Defcon Eleventy in .7 seconds. Something totally out of the ordinary happened to me today, and I was all wide eyes and crazy in a matter of a second, you guys. A second. Sometimes that happens, you know? Sometimes, when you feel trapped, smothered, scared, tired ... sometimes you just need to be reminded. Sometimes you need to be told that spring always comes, or that it's just alright, that life goes on, that people will forget what you've done, or said, or wore. Sometimes you just need a calm voice in your ear simply saying that it'll be okay. Because it will.

It really made me think this afternoon -- just because we're adults doesn't mean we don't still need help - it takes a village ... STILL ... even though we're all raised already. It takes a team of people sitting in your corner ready and waiting for the storm, or even the hot second of crazy wide eyes. I call these people Heart Warriors for no other reason than they're your people. 

You know what I'm talking about right? Bestie Betsy and I used to get into some biz. We weren't trouble makers, or drinkers, or drug users. We were just ordinary teenage girls that had some extraordinary moments - but for real - when things got thick, or when times went pear shaped, we turned up the music and danced it out. Or turned up the radio and sang, a broken harmony all the way home from whatever part of the wide ol' country that we were in. See the thing about all of that? Sometimes when I'm struggling, or when she's struggling, or (often the case) when we're BOTH struggling, it just takes one emailed or texted lyric - one line of a random song from that time of our lives to remind me or her or us that we're going to be okay. 

Even now, I'm sitting on my living room floor, a cold drink next to me, awaiting BFF Suzy and BFF Amber for a porch night. We're going to sit out on dirty porch chairs, watch the cars go by, and talk about the last couple of weeks. These nights? The nights spent on the patio, or the porch, or at the table? These are the nights that we pick up whatever is leftover of each other from the week, and we put the pieces back in place. We build each other back up. We push back together the broken, the discarded. We quiet the crazy eyes. We tame the racing hearts and trapped breaths. Because we're each other's warriors. And maybe that sounds trite. Or simple. Or silly. 

But you know what? In the coming back together? In the pushing back together the broken, and the quieting of the wild eyes? 

Those people?

They make you brave again.  

xoxo, B.