Cousin Sandy, me, L.A. friend Gita, Asheville friend Susan at Taco Billy
My friend Gita from L.A. visited me for a few days last week. She and I have known each other since we were young marrieds, before babies. We saw each other through divorces, second careers as therapists, sometimes going months without seeing each other, but coming together, most often, for coffee and neighborhood strolls.
I’d only ever known her in the context of L.A.’s terrain so it was a kick to bring her into my Asheville world. I got to introduce her to stovetop coffee, rambling walks, and some of my North Carolina people.
Friday night we met up with my cousin Sandy and friend Susan at West Asheville’s Taco Billy, home of the best vegan taco anywhere. In typical Asheville Vortex-y fashion, an impromptu bluegrass band just happened to be playing in the back patio, so Gita got to experience a bit of Appalachia along with her margarita. I’ve never been a bluegrass fan particularly, but that band sure did hit the spot that night.
The bluegrass band at Taco Billy. The white-haired gentleman at the table wasn’t with us, but he did almost take my margarita. If you watch the whole video, you can see that the tequila had started to take its effect.
Some evenings feel magical, and this was one of them. Summer’s humidity had been replaced by early fall’s crisp air, kids and dogs were frolicking on the grass, and everyone on the patio seemed in relaxed, foot-tapping spirits. As I sat back and watched Gita talking and laughing with Sandy and Susan, I felt an enormous wave of gratitude for the friendships that have been the throughlines in my life.
My divorce in 2004 heralded the beginning of a long, hard era: co-parenting acrimony, subsequent poor relationship choices, working multiple jobs to make things meet in the years before I got a private practice going, frequent downsizing moves until I ended up in an apartment so small I stopped inviting people over altogether. For years, I awoke every morning, with The Talking Head’s Once In A Lifetime lyrics echoing in my noggin:
“Well, ‘How did I get here?’
And you may ask yourself, ‘How do I work this?’
And you may say to yourself, ‘My God! What have I done?’”
I never thought I’d get that refrain out of my head, but ever since I moved to Asheville, it’s been gone. Now, I wake up every morning pinching myself, still not quite able to believe that the years of bleakness are behind me, that what I have instead is a life so wild and precious I can almost bite into into it and feel the sweet, ripe drops roll down my chin.
Gita was one of the friends who was with me through the dark times, so it was a totally new and gratifying experience to usher her into my bright times. The next day we walked Beaver Lake, made pitstops at artist studios and a bar in the River Arts District, then finished the evening at a restaurant in nearby Weaverville that, surprisingly, seemed to be a gathering spot for what appeared to be the swinger and trophy wife set.
The next day I put her on the plane back to L.A. and spent the glorious, sun-dappled afternoon walking along the river with a friend.
We ended up at New Belgium Brewery, because the other odd turn of events that’s happened since I’ve lived in Asheville is that I — a person who previously loathed beer — now like the cold, frothy brew. At least, as long as it doesn’t taste too much like beer.
After we left the Brewery, we lolled on a swingset by the river, and I thought, what is better than this? To be in harmony with good people, with the land, with oneself. To stay open to new discoveries: a bluegrass band on a cool fall night, a glass of lager on a sunny fall afternoon, a vortex in the mountains that has your back.
Homecoming
It was a magical night! Meeting your wonderful friends and family and feeling the vortex vibrations! The whole trip felt to me a chance to watch you wander, joyfully, through this new part of your life. So deserved. I feel thankful for each year we've had as friends xoxox