When in Rome...find a Roman friend.

This past weekend I pretended I was a New Yorker.
How did I do this? I actually went to New York. The trip was in honor of a friend that I have had for 24 years, who was finally turning 30 like the rest of us. She was having a party. A New York party. As soon as I was invited, I was ransacked with terror. I don't know how to go to a New York party. I don't know how to act around New Yorkers. How will I find something else to talk about other than Elmo?
I was completely psyched out.
This is where I have to describe my friend: She is single. She is a lawyer. She lives in Manhattan. She has fabulous shoes and clothes. Now I will remind you about me: I am comfortably, happily married with 1-year-old daughter. I am a work-at-home consultant. I live in suburban Ohio. I buy my clothes at Target because I know that they will be ruined in less than 3 days by either my slobbish self or my daughter.
This is where I talk about friends. Good friends. The kind that you can nestle right back into the relationship without batting an eye. It does not matter how different your lives have become. It does not matter what your life will become, because you will always have that friend.

Guess what? I had fun.
Okay, I complained to my friend about the late nights (2 whole past 9pm bedtimes in a row. I thought I would die.) Okay, I made fun of the thousands of people I saw that could cross a New York street and blackberry at the same time. But my friend was able to show me a side of New York City that was softer than all of that. We spent a day in Central Park. Did you know that there are actually people who raise babies in New York? I couldn't believe how many babies I saw! It was like stork headquarters!

The weather was beautiful and the people were kind. I smiled the whole 2 days I was there. I quickly became spoiled by having everything available at my finger tips: any type of food or store, and I could get there by simply flagging down a taxi.

No, this was not my first trip to New York. It was probably...my tenth. But it was my first time there after being changed by motherhood into someone who feels frumpy and tired. Someone who just does not want to face, well...New York.

I did it. I loved it, again. I am proud to have a friend that lives there. I loved my friend's party and I loved my friend's friends.
I tried on the New York life and it fit for a whole weekend! While waiting for my flight back to frumpiness and exhaustion, I couldn't help feeling a little melancholy and cloudy. All of that was erased, of course, by seeing my little one again. And my big guy.

I remember always that my friend tells me that she would trade her life for mine in a heartbeat, while I envy her life at times.
This is why we are friends: We try on each other's lives and let them fit for short times before returning to where we belong. We never let the connection between us dissipate.
I hope my friend finds true happiness in her 30s. In fact, I know she will and I can't wait to stand by and watch it.
Until then, I thank her for giving me the opportunity to remember that I could love a city and late nights. I thank her for watching me (again) inhale a diner breakfast of pancakes, eggs and sausage. I know I told her I came to New York for the food, the champagne and the midnight cupcakes at her party.
To my friend who is now a whole decade older, I don't care where you live. I will always come for you.