Dear L.K.,

I just have to send you a little apology letter. I know that you don’t read my blog and, in fact, you probably don’t even know that I have a blog, but I will feel better after typing this and, as we all know, it’s all about Me.

We’ve known each other since our 13-year-old boys were in preschool together and we made those birthday party rounds back in the day. I have always found myself drawn to you because you are a lovely, lovely person and really fun to talk to. I always found it adorable that, back then, you let your son name your new Labrador Retriever puppy after my older son. I love asking you, on the rare occasions when we meet again, how “D the dog” is, and I love (just as much) that after all these years you never changed his name to something more “doggish”, like Spot or Rover or Buddy.

Over the years we haven’t seen each other much–just an occasional “drive by” or “walk by” at the temple because outside of middle school and Sunday School, we don’t have common activities, except for Band.

When I saw you walk into the gym for the Middle School band concert last night, my face lit up because we haven’t seen each other for a long while. I knew that you recently had knee surgery and was anxious to see how you are faring in your recovery. As you walked (okay, hobbled) towards me with your husband, I was suddenly reminded that I didn’t smell very good.

You see, I had a busy, busy afternoon. I had to get one boy to a Lacrosse game, set up a ride for the other boy to get to the school for pre-concert practice, and then go teach my cycling class. In the meantime, the husband left work to go to the Lacrosse game (we won, 3-1. Yay!), drive the son and carpool boy home, grab us a string cheese and an apple (no time for dinner), and then meet me at the school. I had to rush from my class (about 25 minutes away) to get to the concert. Or should I say “concertS”, because the boy’s Honor Band was playing in the first one and his 7th grade band played in the second one. Anyway, when we entered the gym we realized how stifling hot it was. I had put a t-shirt on over my workout clothes so that I wouldn’t gross everybody out with the sweat that was making ugly damp designs on my cute workout top, and I was in for a warm 90 minutes.

So while I was excited for you to come and sit near us so we could catch up, I was also mortified at the same time. You are the type of woman who walks around looking very, very polished all the time. And you look like you smell good all the time too.

I was right. You do smell good. You wear just the right amount of perfume, so a person next to you can smell it when you move. I imagined that you were smelling my stinkiness everytime I moved, and I kept telling myself that at least I was there for my kid…and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t notice. Or at least won’t hold it against me.

And, true to the character that I’ve always known you to have, you chatted and laughed with me for that entire 90 minutes–between songs, that is–in that hot, hot, 92-degree (according to Jim’s temp reading on his watch) gym while giving no indication of disgust at my post-workout appearance or smell. For that, I thank you. And I apologize.

The next time we meet, some things will stay the same: I will be just as overjoyed to see you and excited to catch up. Some things, however, I hope will be different. I hope that I will not look like I’ve just been through the wringer, and I hope that I am smelling just a little Lovely.

Thanks for being a good friend.