conversations over red wine
September 4. 2000
the mosaic'ed buildings on South Street, finally:
a mosaic face
a wide angle
some of the tile work up close
Kate on her wonderful porch
I really hate goodbyes, so I tend to avoid them. I think this goes with the hating funerals bit. I just think, well, I'll see this person again soon, and besides, there's email, and phone and letters. So I just don't say goodbye. There's so many goodbyes I've missed in my life, and I feel so stupid for that.
So my friend Kate, after finishing her Master's Degree here in Philly, is moving down to South Carolina for a (hopefully temporary) job. I found this out quite suddenly - after a summer of email neglect, I emailed her saying, "Hey, I'm back in Philly soon, let's get together for dinner or something!" to which she replied, "I guess you didn't get my email, I got a job in South Carolina." I felt like a colossal idiot until she emailed me this weekend saying she was going to be in town for Labor Day to finish packing up all her stuff, so we could get together.
It's weird seeing someone in your real life that reads your online journal, which Kate does. I started to tell her so many things, like about my job from hell this summer, my new apartment, and I realized...she already knows all this stuff. Which is at the same time convenient and kind of freaky.
Kate, and her roommate Ann, have the most amazing apartment I have ever seen in my entire life. I am not exaggerating, it's like something out of "Friends". I think it used to be an old store - high ceilings, exposed brickwork, huge windows. They have a gorgeous kitchen, and of course, the best part, a huge, wonderful porch overlooking someone else's roof. To the left of it, a soccer field, and on the right, the tops of the Philly skyline peek out from around other buildings.
Ann, her usual Martha Stewart fashion, made tons and tons of food for the cookout, all for only the five of us (me, Kate, Ann, Kate's friend Kristen and Ann's mother). Sausage, chicken, shishkabob potatoes and a huge pasta salad.
After we ate, Kate cracked open a bottle of red wine for all of us to drink. I hate red wine, but I drank it anyway, because I wanted to feel cool and also to take advantage of Ann's uberhip Pier One wine classes. The converation became easier the more we all drank, and we talked as it began to get dark and the night cooled and got windy. Bottle rockets went off in the nearby soccer field, celebrating Labor Day. The tiki lamps on either side of the picnic table we were sitting at flickered in the breeze. The sounds of faint music came from the living room through the screened windows. It was really a perfect moment. A beautiful night, with good food, surrounded by good friends.
I'll miss you, Kate.
One Year Ago:
all writings, (c) 1999-2000, BRR