“Can we come tomorrow?” My answer as soon as I read my best friend’s message asking if we could get together this week. I really didn’t want to be home today. Last Tuesday, I came home from the hospital and had to tell Graham that his twin siblings had died. Without hesitation, her answer was, “Yippee!”
She’s the friend who just opens her door and the dogs run out to bark at your shoes. Ty and Muffin always pretend like they don’t remember me. Why do dogs do that? We carry the girls in. I throw all our milk cups and bottles into her fridge. Shoes come off. And we start talking over one another, while keeping visuals on 5 kids under 7.
We cover theology, body lotion scents, literature, my twins, red lipstick, pirate parties, coffee, our favorite candy, and how long it’s been since we’ve bought new underwear…proof positive we’re in our thirties. Which we love. Because the thirties are comfortable. Our friendship is comfortable.
And our kids are best friends. Even though they spent most of their playdate bickering, tattling, and getting threatened with naptime. Too cold to play outside. It was still glorious. Exactly what I needed. Just time to be me. Crying when I needed to cry. Making fun of Mutt and Stuff when I needed to laugh. Seriously…that kid cannot act. How does he have a show?