A few weekends ago my BestFriendWendy came to visit and brought her spunky wonderful daughter, Jessica. It was The Swimmy’s birthday weekend and they came to help her celebrate her next adventure called Six. It was a lovely Girls Weekend. It was a totally different kind of Girls Weekend than what Wendy and I used to have – but still fun!
We got to talking, Wendy and I, about how far we’d come. This year we will have known each other 17 years. We met in college – her freshman year, my sophomore. She from Chicago, me from Houston. We couldn’t have been more different if we tried, but we hit it off immediately and became notorious shortly after that.
Here we are 15 years ago. She’s gonna kill me for this, but we seriously have no pictures of just the two of us together from back then for some reason. That’s her on the far right. Enormous amounts of hair product and several cups of whatever trashcan punch was laying around later – there we are in arguably one of the highlights of one of the best years of my life.
(And seriously? Will you LOOK at our skin? That glow? Flawless. Oh, to have THAT back again.)
We talked about our unbelievable college life (OMG – how we are alive today is a mystery to us both), the men we chose, the men who chose us, the ones who were high points and the ones who were low points. And even those weren’t so terribly low. All of them threads in our shared tapestry.
I love her. We knew each other as girls and know each other now as women. We have stood by each other through struggles, good behavior, bad behavior, first jobs, no jobs, single, dating and marriage. Other friends of ours have floated in and out of our lives. The other men have long since disappeared, married or divorced. We think about them all – but honor the moment we are in.
Our girls are a year and a half apart – not much more than us. Who knows what their relationship will be like. We hope they’ll be friends. But that friendship has one helluva act to follow.