TURNING

Once, while I was still single, I sat down and wrote an open letter to my friends who were married, titling the letter “Rickshaws Have Three Wheels And They Work Just Fine”. I had become a little sad and hurt and frustrated by the comments of a couple of friends whom I saw less and less. Each claimed she didn’t want me to feel like a third wheel when it was her, her husband, and me hanging out. Each also said she didn’t want to drag me into the chaos of her life with young kids. In the letter, I laid out what I’d tried to tell them when we did see each other: I enjoyed seeing their kids, and didn’t feel like a third wheel. I just liked their company, no matter who else was around, and was in fact a bit honored to be allowed into the chaos of everyday life.