Four Weekends and a Funeral

by Ellie Palmer

there’s something hopeful about witnessing seasons, the way even the air is capable of radical change.

I’m consumed by that fizzy, silly feeling I only have around my best friends—that intoxicating invincibility of being known, understood, and loved as the most beautiful, brilliant idiot the world has ever seen.

“How am I supposed to know if any time is a good time for anything? Does anyone? You just have to make the choices that feel true to the life you want and hope like hell it will all work out.”