"As our lives change, come whatever..."

When you grow up in a town of 24,ooo people, it is not at all surprising to have known your high school friends since childhood. What is surprising, however, is successfully holding onto those friends as the distance between you grows to span a world full of over 6 billion people.

I may have been one of the eight luckiest high school students the world has ever known - at least as far as friends are concerned. I followed a couple of girls from my 2nd block class to the lunchroom on the first day of ninth grade, and the rest is history. As it turned out, I already knew everyone at that table (or who would eventually come to that table) from past lives, but we needed the perfect storm of timing and circumstance to make the group gel. Over the next four years, hardly a day would go by for any of us without seeing at least one member of our lunch crew - we took most of the same classes, participated in the same activities (we were evenly split between debaters and dramatists, which was nearly always the cause of any fights we had), and spent more than a significant portion of our free time together. Movie nights were nearly a weekly (sometimes bi-weekly, tri-weekly...) occurrence, every birthday and holiday was celebrated, and even if we were just playing on a swingset or driving in (very small) circles around town abusing our stereo systems and our voices, life was great when we were together.

Since all eight of us are hilarious, brilliant, attractive (humble), and extraordinarily ambitious over-achievers, we began to realize that what we had in high school could not last forever. We all had dreams that necessarily extended past the city limits of our little town, and one by one, we chose our distant destinations: Brookings, Fargo, St. Peter, Lincoln, Lawrence, and three different sections of Washington, DC. Like all high school friends do, we promised to keep in touch and to stay friends forever, but then things got weird: we actually did. I can only speak for myself at this point in the story, but I know that in the sitcom of my life, although the cast is continually growing, these people are my co-stars. They are my extended family, my eventual wedding party, and my first call/email/text when things go wrong.

The visits get fewer and farther between as the years go by and responsibilities pile up and we continue to spread out on a now international scale, but nothing else seems to change. When we do get the chance to be together, we pick up right where we left off - knowing a person for fifteen years will allow for that, I suppose. This week, three of us got one of those opportunities. For a precious 37 hours, Adrienne got to play hostess and welcomed us into her home, which of course, already felt like our home. We had an amazing time, took some truly ridiculous pictures (look for those on Facebook soon), and took care of each other mentally, emotionally, and physically - the way only the best of friends can. So, thanks go to Addy for planning a fabulous day, and thanks go to Kiki (teehee) for his infinite patience for things that are girly. This is for you guys (and our absent friends) - I love you all. :)


Homecoming

Senses awaken, each in turn: coffee brewing, laughter trickling in;
this morning immediately seems less painful than most.
Yawn, stretch; bare feet meet a warm floor.
Round the corner to greet grinning faces with a sleepy smile.

Squeeze in tight to share space and time, cozy like an old Beatles LP.
Settle into giggles and snorts between comfortable silences,
memories tossed about like Frisbees on an early summer afternoon;
no performance to consider - we can just be.

Prepare for the day, accomplish routines and tasks -
dishwasher full, contacts in, did you find your phone?
Domesticity is false and fleeting, but no less comforting.
Grab shoes, keys, and each other as we walk out the door.


May 28, 2010