Do-Over

I want a “do-over.” I want to talk to my 20-something self and tell her to grow up, “You are an idiot.”

This story is about a feisty red head named Sarah. We met in college and instantly became friends. We were so much alike and did everything together. When my roommate moved out Sarah moved in, but it didn’t last long. A few months after she got a key Sarah decided the apartment, utilities, etc. was too expensive. So, she packed up and moved out. I was already struggling with a painful breakup. My boyfriend of 4 years ditched me for an Applebee’s waitress. Clearly, he was getting more than 1/2 prices appetizers in that neighborhood. I could not afford the apartment on my own and would have to move home, too. My parents lived an hour away from school. I felt like my world was crumbling. I took it out on Sarah. We never spoke again.

Months later Sarah’s father had a massive heart attack and died. I did not know. I was not there for her during the most difficult time in her life. I wasn’t invited to her wedding. I was not around when her children were born.

Then, Facebook came along. I searched and found a picture of a woman, her husband and two kids. I hesitated to send a message. After all, I was the brat who ended our friendship. She immediately wrote back, elated that I had found her after all these years. We saw each other today for the first time in more than a decade. It was like we had spoken yesterday. I still want a “do-over.”

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