If you've been reading for the past few days, you may be tired of hearing that the Five TD Sisters are temporarily down to Four. Post after post after post has not only raised your awareness of this provisional change in organization, but also made certain you appreciate the keen discomfort it has met upon all of us involved. Yes, Mercina is gone to Quebec, and the rest of us are left adrift in the lower 48. And by "the rest of us", I mostly mean me. Because, while my other sisters are all incredibly attached to Mercina, they each have other points amongst which to situate themselves. Babies, husbands, houses -- such are the enviable pectin of life. These are the things which thicken ones world to the point of navigability; the securing truths of an individual's grand scheme.
As far as life-jellies go, mine is still a bit runny (I picked my narrative motif, and gosh be darned if I don't stick to it (stick to it. like sticky jelly. it is a pun.)). I don't mean to say that I'm in any way undersupported by my loved ones, but rather that I hold no primary claim on anyone or thing and vise-versa. Now, after nineteen years of kindred camaraderie, the closest thing I have to a 51% stake has flitted off into the Silent Northern Wilds of Canada with Mercina Grace. It's hard for me to deal with, and I can't imagine it's going to get much easier when what was to be *our* senior year of college starts in a month and *our* graduation commences in the spring, after which our little twin paths can't help but split even further apart than they already have. And here -- in the midst of the most deliciously satisfying public display of self-pity -- is where a wretched, inconvenient little opportunity for personal growth and increased self-knowledge starts to insist on my insides. Here is where I admit that Mercina and I are not inseparable, and, furthermore, that the fact is a good thing. Because -- as much as we would enjoy it -- I should not be the the Edith Beale to her Edith Beale (although I do think I would wear a turban well).
This unwelcome bifurcation is one of those awful bits of growing up. It's rotten and I think it's stupid, but in ten years I may feel differently. Maybe I'll end up becoming more responsible, finding my true self, etcetera and so forth, but for the moment I'd rather wallow in the muddy ruts of memory lane. So here's to excellent friends and shared experiences, and boo to them changing even one bit.