a group chat is a place of worship. it’s where i come to fall humble to my knees and marvel at the lore and impossibilities of closest friends, that secret and sacred cadre. it’s where we gather when a push notification chimes like a village bell for new stories and sermons, and i sit next to you on the pews and another of our friends stands at the pulpit, waving their arms in a whirlwind; the frenetic evangelism of How Did Your Date Go Last Night or I Finally Did That Thing I Was Telling Y’all About or Can We Hang Out This Weekend.

i sit right next to you on that bench and you and i share irreverent mutterings or approving and prideful glances, and soon we’ll get carried right away and soon our mutterings are hollerings, and soon the whole chat is stamping feet and yelling in the old latin of the group. we’re heart-reacting and dancing and waving like our lives depend on the inertia of the spin because it really is so pure and good to know Your Date Went Well.

a group chat is a gift, a kaleidoscope of hope and stories and stale memes and fresh ones, a gift of the afternoons we’ll spend with 1000-piece puzzle heartbreaks, a gift of the laughter of some someones i love so much that it shakes the cage of my chest, a gift of days made and favors done and punchlines crafted and ribs jabbed and rare hearts brought close to share. thanks for that.
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