Conversation: The act of conversing BOTH ways.

(We’re getting the internet in our NEW HOME :) tomorrow. I’m looking forward to diving back into the blogging world! But I have one minute and I hijacked my husband’s work air card...I need to get this out of my brain before I fall asleep tonight.)

Today I met a new friend. Her name is Molly*. She has a boy on L’s soccer team. She talked my ear off for 30 minutes straight about her family, her extended family, her school situation, her work situation, her back to school shopping and upcoming birthdays and the like.

I probably gave her an understanding nod like 100 times.

I was there for her.

I let her talk until she ran out of breath...I’m pretty sure her lips were blue from constantly talking. Honestly, there was no oxygen inhaled during the entire length of the conversation.

But when I tried to tell her a little about me…a little teeny tiny tidbit about my life…a little information that included the words, JUVENILE DIABETES…well! I got a gasp, a look of disbelief/disgust and a “How awful.”

You know what she made me feel? She made me feel ashamed. I can’t explain it, but that was the emotion that came to the surface. I threw in a weak explanation…I know I used the word "auto-immune" and something about him having it since he was a baby…but she wouldn’t have any of it. She didn’t want to talk about it and I spent the rest of the practice nodding and validating her anger at the fact that her family wasn’t happy she brought her son with a fever to her mother’s 50th birthday party.

Poo.

Poo to you Molly.

I don’t want to be your friend anymore.

*Name changed because it's the right thing to do.