I’m reposting this essay from a few months back. Just this morning, I had the sweetest interaction. My friend Jodi posted a simple yet beautiful photo of an everything bagel. Her Facebook post read “An everything bagel solves everything. At least for today.” In the comments I posted a link to this story I wrote a few months ago. Great minds think alike and all that stuff, etc, yadda, blah blah blah. A friend of Jodi’s then read my story, not realizing I was the author, and found a simpatico emotion. I don’t believe I’ve ever used the word ‘simpatico’ ever in my life so forgive me if it’s incorrect. I then wrote her. She wrote to me and we are both a little less alone in our feelings. The greatest compliment I could ever be paid. Quoting my words. Relating to my feelings.
I was twenty-nine when Princess Diana died. I was living in a historic row house in Lambertville with my boyfriend Josh, and two roommates, Jim and Dave. We were a happy house of misfits.
I was upstairs in bed when Josh yelled from downstairs, “Princess Diana was in an accident!”
“Is she ok!?” I yelled back a little panicked.
We were a house full of Anglophiles. We watched the Spice Girls HBO concert special nightly. A few times nightly. We studied every move. Every side glance from Posh. Every eye twinkle from Baby. Dave was partial to Sporty. I never understood why. I think I liked Ginger the best. Josh loved Dr. Who and all of us were into the newest new British Invasion in music.
About five minutes later Josh came upstairs and told me the special report just came back on. Princess Diana had died.
Is there a name for the moment you…
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