Shoved to Them
I drove my closest friend and her daughter to the airport this morning after a 10 day slumber party at my house. We hadn’t seen each other face-to-face in almost 3 years. 10 days seemed like a long time to have extra people in my house; it wasn’t nearly enough time. She could have stayed a month. (She could have stayed forever.)
My sweet Computer Guy was understanding about this “other woman” in our house. I kept waiting for him to complain about something. He’s a private guy who likes his space. He was genuinely saddened by their departure.
We discovered that somehow we had managed to marry the male versions of each other. Her War Hero is calm and easy-going like me; we’re great when needed, but always lose the keys. She and my sweet husband are the organization that keep the whole mess moving forward. I realized this the evening the two of them waxed rhapsodic about label makers. Yup. The Air Force Guy and I married nerds and we like it that way.
In the last week and a half, I’ve eaten more ice cream than in the past six months put together. We sat in my big king sized bed with a mug of Braum’s Brownie Batter Ice Cream and watched reality TV from under a warm pile of blankets while we laughed, cried, oohed over pretty babies, and made catty remarks about people with too much botox.
I miss her already. I miss the easy give and take of someone who knows all about that embarrassing time in high school when you tripped and landed in a bowl of nacho cheese on the lap of your secret crush or that you slept with a nightlight well into your twenties and loves you enough to mock you mercilessly for it but would never breathe a word of your shame to another soul. That’s the true measure of friendship. They know the real you that you hide from the world and still respect you, and after 10 days together (including time spent in swimsuits) you both cry because it wasn’t enough time. 10 days, 10 years, a whole lifetime…it will never be enough.
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