Lori Florida

Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver, and the other is gold. Living in the parsonage next door to my church brought with it a fierce temptation to run for cover on Sunday mornings. At war with my longing for good friends was my compulsion to avoid awkward post-service conversations. I loved my friends; it was the process from acquaintance to bosom friend that killed me. Voices in my head told me the happy groups chatting in the foyer didn’t need one more person. But I was in a new place with new people as a mom of two preschoolers. To build a life here, I needed friends. God always knew I needed friends. The proof started before I was even born as my mom discovered one of her Lamaze classmates attended the same church she did. My first friendship was born before I was. Kim and I grew up together. She was the blond to my brunette, the laughter to my serious, and the active to my laid back. She provided an anchor of belonging to my little heart. I can’t remember my ele...

Twenty years ago, when I imagined myself mid-life, I curated a mental list of the things I imagined myself doing. I expected my forties to be busy, bustling with action. I hoped for a full family life and strength to check boxes on important lists all day long. I hoped to maintain a sense of style that didn’t embarrass my daughters but stayed unique. I wanted my forty-something self to be doing things that felt satisfying. Here I am at forty-six, and it’s almost exactly as I expected. It seems to be the sweet spot of both strength and perspective. A peak from which I can see how far I’ve come and am starting to turn my face toward new vistas. Thinking about the future is quite different than in my twenties. Then, life seemed limitless, but now it’s easier to see  time’s constraints . I used to think I wanted to age like Sophia Loren. She’s stylish and drop-dead gorgeous; she doesn’t try to be any age but the one she is. She gives off an air of embracing the best pieces ...

There are times I feel like the whole world has been doused in hot sauce.  Everything looks red.  It doesn't matter what the situation, I'm gritting my teeth and mad.  There are other days when blue is the color of life.  I'm sad, sad, sad.  Nothing feels right and I can't shake the feeling that I just need to go to bed and start over tomorrow. These types of days creep up with a general feeling of unease every four weeks or so.  Other times they rage in without warning as I'm holding a precious newborn.   Remember my freak-out with baby Trevor in my arms?   I had another full-blown "moment"  as I rocked twin baby girls.  Tears at that moment defied reason.  The path to having them included miscarriages, a cancer scare, and early pregnancy trouble.  Here I was, holding two dreams come true dressed in pink - with tears streaming down my face!  Why??  Because I wasn't pregnant anymore!  I wouldn't feel these ...