where the watermelons grow

John and Kelly graduated from the same college as me, but a year or two before I got there.  Sometimes John's band would come back down to play, and my significantly older boyfriend would take me to the house right house party, and I would dance and dance feeling slightly self-conscious because most people were older and cooler. But, nevertheless, I persisted, because very little kept me from dancing back then.

Another college friend, Kenna,  moved back to Maryland after living ten years abroad, and we were talking about things that had changed in our social group in her absence. Just little things, she said. "Like you hang out with John and Kelly now, and they were always the 'cool' kids."

I reassured my ego that it was fine that people should be surprised that the cool friends are, in fact, my friends now.

And as you can see, they are cool, with their beautiful exotic breakfast, their waterfront house in a community that feels something like a Wes Anderson movie with a touch of John Waters. Their daughter just a little younger than mine who boasts a vocabulary nearly as impressive as her dance moves. 

And if anyone is to be blamed for me venturing into professional photography, it's Kelly, who once suggested I could have a successful business, and maybe, because, despite our friendship now, her unflappable air made me think, hope, maybe she was right.