I want to talk to her about Brandy Melville crop tops. I have a question about a ceiling fan. I want to make fun of our husbands. I want to link arms on the way to the subway. I want to sit shotgun in her car. I want to run into her at Smash Burger on Route 17. I want to run into her at the shady deli. I want to share a room with her on a girls weekend. I want to talk about the high school application process. I want to sit with her, in the sun, on a boat. I want to sit with her, in the snow, on a chairlift. I want her on our group text, sending funny GIFS. I want to hear her laugh. I want to hear her indignant over something stupid. I want her counsel. I want her recommendations. I want to listen to her converse with Miles on a golf cart. I want her and Evan to make fun of hippies. I want to hear about her famous clients. I want to hear about her and Todd in college. I want her to be at Zoe’s Bat Mitzvah. I want to talk about aging. I want to talk about pilates. I want to plan things. I want more dinners. More emails. More posts. More memories. More photos. More time.
I want her back.
