I am a typical girl. A typical, hormonal, overly emotional girl. I cry at Hallmark commercials. And usually feel silly about it. A couple weeks ago, I decided I wanted some new books to read. I attempted to check them out from the library with my nifty little library card that I had gotten last year and had not yet used. I was told that since my mailing address is a UPS store, I had no proof of being a Leon County resident and could not check books out. I had to leave the two books that I have gotten excited over on the counter.

I still wanted books, so I went to Goodwill, and picked out three books, all for under $5. One of them was a thick paperback novel entitled “Firefly Lane.” It looked like a chick lit type book, which I am ashamed to say often draw me in. It also looked like an easy read, which was something I was wanting lately. At the end of the day, I want something a little mindless to read.

I started it the next day, and sure enough, it was an easy read. The author Kristin Hannah doesn’t have an exceptional writing style, although some of her descriptions were kinda cool. “… for once the words were arrows that found no target and clattered uselessly to the ground.” (p. 402) And she has a way of creating realistic, likable characters that draw you in. Some of the topics she covered were relevant; abandonment, insecurity, struggling to fit in, that one elusive dream in your life, and raging codependency.

The story follows two women who are best friends for thirty years, and the rocky road that their friendship sometimes takes. It was often predictable, although I was pleasantly surprised to find that the “single act of betrayal” eluded to on the back cover was not the affair that I was expecting. The last four to five chapters were by far the best. It ends in a predictable way, although still sweet. One of the friends develops breast cancer, and they mend the rift in their friendship during her last few months on earth. It was refreshing that the author chose to highlight a different type of breast cancer, inflammatory breast cancer, that I had never heard of. There was a postscript at the end of the book that talked about looking out for this type of cancer and the warning signs that you may find. Always good to be informed of such things.

So here comes the part of being a girl that I hate. Throughout reading this book, I hadn’t been terribly impressed with it. It was a quick, easy read, and I flew through it pretty quick. I found myself rolling my eyes at parts that I knew were coming or cheesy comments. And yet, during that last chapter, as one of the main characters fades away and dies, and the other friend is left with a sappy note left by her dead friend, I cried. Not just tearing up a bit kind of cry. The I had to put the book down and wipe my eyes kind of cry. At least Drew didn’t walk into the room at that moment.

So sometimes I hate being a girl. But that’s who I am, and that’s how God wired me. So pass the tissues please.