She is my people
I met Elsha, then-girlfriend of my husband’s best friend, on September 27, 2009.
I was lying on a couch when she walked into my apartment with a blanket she’d made for my soon-to-be-born baby.
I said something to her. I couldn’t tell you what, though I think it included the words “thank you.” I was nine months pregnant and had an enormous freakin’ headache that wouldn’t go away.
A couple hours later, my then-partner, Anthony, drove me to the hospital to be induced. My blood pressure was high enough to put me and my baby at risk.
Over several coffee dates a few years later, Elsha would tell me about her best friend, Broceny. Broceny sounded pretty damn rad. Still, I somehow managed never to meet her.
(Life with two little kids is like that.)
In early 2016, my siblings made me question whether Hillary Clinton was really the more practical choice of the Democratic primary candidates.
Since then, I’ve walked the locally-lonely road of being 100% Bernie … and more for Bernie with every single article I read about U.S. politics.
My husband emailed lonely me a Facebook post last Wednesday. He prefaced the pasted text with the message:
So, I think that you and Elsha’s friend Broceny should get together soon and chat..
…you need local friends with similar agendas 🙂
I read his forwarded message and barely kept from squealing.
Broceny was my people!
As I stood in line to vote for my district’s Democratic delegates on Saturday, Broceny and I exchanged many texts. She, having been part of the local progressive scene long before I even knew “progressives” were a thing, had lots of insights to share.
And heart. Lots and lots of heart.
I felt the way I did when I connected with like souls while blogging more than twenty years ago: overjoyed! The world was so much bigger and more full of possibility than what I saw in the mess immediately around me!
I cried. A few times.
Earlier today, Anthony shared another Facebook post from Broceny. After I read it with tear-filled eyes, I texted her, “Aaaaaaah. Anthony forwarded your post from FB. I love you! I haven’t even met you in person & I love you!!”
This might sound unbelievable to … anyone else. But I grew up surrounded by poverty and predators, and I know the difference between trusting because it feels good (temporarily) and trusting because it’s actually deserved.
Can I boil this trust down to some easily reproducible formula? No.
Can I tell you I’m grateful as hell for someone I’ve never met in person, but who’s no less vibrant in my heart for that?
Sure can! And will, because, man. I am already so damn glad to know Broceny.
She is my people, and I love her.