Shoveling Down the Greens

Almost a year ago, I met a girl. My mom set us up. (They work together at the library.) One night in the kitchen, Mom gave me her phone number and said, “Abby is just the nicest.” Thus began one of the sweetest friendships I’ve formed in my 30s. You know how they say you can count your true friends on one hand? I’m the lucky bitch who needs two—plus a foot. I’ve got an incredible, widespread quilt of girlfriends, and Abby has seamlessly stitched her way into my heart. Usually the first person to greet me when I wake up. Often the last person I chat with before bed. Definitely someone who would notice if I choked on a Beyond Burger and died in the apartment. We’ve celebrated her pregnancy and, soon, the birth of her second child. She’s directed me to some of the yummiest vegan food in Boston. She makes me scream laugh and spit out my dinner, think twice about politics and social “norms”, and blink real hard at certain shirtless social media posts. With her, I can be my silliest, most