I’m really at a loss for words with this post. I left at night and drove over three hours on a Monday with my little girl to meet a friend I’d never met in person before, and left days later feeling more like I’d gained a sister than a friend. After a very alarming run-in at a country mini mart with an unmarked tow truck in which we assumed we’d be murdered, I think we both found it a little hard to say good night so soon. Even at past 1 AM that first night with two groggy and confused preschoolers lingering about, it just seemed like there was so much to say. Her house on a farm smells like the wood smoke of my childhood, and I still haven’t washed the sweatshirt I wore there, even though I’m told I smell like campfire.
What a wonderful thing to experience again as an adult woman. I am reminded of those childhood moments where you lay curled up next to your friend at a sleepover and wish it could be every night, to have the comfort of a friend who understands you so near.
But as we get older, we quit spending the night at our friend’s houses. We gain husbands and babies and careers and we lose the selfless time to connect with other women. So, to wake up in the house of a friend, to eat breakfast and sip lattes together, to talk and talk and talk some more while our three little girls played together on the floor with ponies, with no obligations and no hurries… it makes me ache deeply.
So maybe we can’t go back in time and relive those days…but we can give them to our children.
There’s a train that runs from her to me. And we’re gonna use it.