Young Darcy is scalp-deep in grad school. By text she wailed weepy, plaintive noises at me. I remember that feeling. Grad school was certainly the most transforming period of my life, but my god, did I ever hate it when I was there.
And thus did I send Darcy a huge care package of gourmet treats.
"You are amazing," read the subsequent text from her. It felt weird.
And I realized, with a jolt, that this was the first time a woman had ever directed these words at me without drips of sarcasm.