reunion

Përshërndetje.

That’s Hello is Albanian.

It’s been six weeks and I finally got to see one of my friends again! In the actual flesh, no less. And lemme tell ya, it was really something. I took my first ever train (if the New York subway doesn’t count) and wandered alone in Chicago for a little bit, which is scary and very adulty. But I’m going to let you read Sabrina’s account of the event first because what she thinks of me is funny (and obviously not true).

Michelé is, as we know, a wonderful person who always tries to do the right thing. It is her gift. It seems to come easily to her. So with this in mind I must say that you should never take her to Michigan Avenue in Chicago. It is because of her gentle nature that she will attempt to give everything she has to the poor of Chicago (of which their are many). Ranging from all the cash she has in her wallet to, probably, the shirt on her back. Now I’m not saying that this is a bad thing. It’s just makes me feel like an inconsiderate dick the whole time. That’s all. Our lovely trek through Chicago’s most touristy shopping destination, was still fab though. I forgot how much I missed the companionship of great friends. It’s one thing to text or call but to see one another in the flesh is the tops. (I swear I didn’t know she put “in the flesh” when I wrote my line above #soulmates). Mich’s visit reminded me of why our friendship has always just worked. Despite the fact that she is a reincarnated Mother Teresa, and I’m the mean business person from every kid’s movie ever: we legitimately enjoy each other’s company. Or at least I do. Thanks for coming up Mich and I hope that the next time you do, you can even stay over!!
Much love,
Sabrina

Oh the selfies.

So, basically lets clear things up. I am not nearly worthy enough to be Mother Teresa, but I appreciate the gesture, my friend. It probably is a good idea, though, that I never again visit the inner city of Chicago while not blindfolded. In my opinion, it isn’t my place to decide whether or not a homeless person deserves my money. I think it’s my duty to give what I don’t need to anyone who looks like they do need it. It takes a lot of courage to let go of your pride and sit out on the street asking people to help you. I imagine it to be the absolute last resort for many of them.

We passed at least two dozen poor people in the short afternoon I was there. One younger man we walked by twice and I would have given him my $50 pre-paid visa (I had already given away my five dollars in cash) if we hadn’t been walking so fast. It just tugs at my heart strings, you know? A woman who says she’s lost everything in a fire and clearly has burn marks all the way up her arms. A veteran holding a sign that reads, “Please help.” A Middle Eastern woman saying she has four children that she is trying to get to America and has lost her job… And I know, some of you might think that those signs are expertly engineered to get people like me to give them money, but someone somewhere has to have put their real story out there hoping that just one person might understand. I never want to be that person who wishes they would have given more.

But I feel bad, because that’s not the point of this blog. The point of this blog is that I got to hang out with Sabrina and it was awesome! We bickered, like usual, and I was being my “reverse snob” self as The Table likes to say. And the world was in order. For a brief time I was worried that I was being replaced; that all my friends are finding new, better friends and I’m going to be left behind. But thinking about it, I will never ever replace them so why should I think they don’t value our friendship just as much? Next time I’ll stay over. Promise.