On Tuesday, one of my good friends, Helen, came to visit us. She's in DC for a convention and gamely made the trek all the way up the Red Line from Ballston to have dinner with Jenny, Sylvia, and me. I met Helen when I was studying abroad in Salamanca, way back in 1991. Who would figure that a West Virginia kid and a California girl would have so much in common?
Since that time, we have stayed in touch via letters, much too infrequent visits, and, these days, email. Regardless of the geographic distance between us, we have remained close friends. She now works for the Lance Armstrong Foundation in Austin, doing some immensely important work (work that includes hobnobbing with Lance and Hillary Clinton), is happy married to a great guy, and is as fantastic to be around as ever. She has surmounted some seriously daunting obstacles in her life, and even survived a near plane-crash a year ago. Still, she always beams with enthusiasm and zest for living. I can honestly say that she's one of the most inspirational people I've been lucky enough to know. (Plus, Sylvia thought she was super cool from the minute she walked in the door—the killer Austin tee-shirt Helen brought her was a great icebreaker!)
We were all sad that she wasn't able to spend more time with us, and hope to make a trip to Austin when the baby gets ready to travel.
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