We met 12 years ago, young women living away from home for the first time. Our first real taste of freedom. Long dinners, late nights, quad yells, bad roommates, but of the thirty or so girls on our floor, we became friends and moved off campus the following year.
A gaggle of girls with a gaggle of boyfriends and wild parties and too much drinking and skipped classes and driving when we shouldn't and microwaved egg sandwiches and guys named Larry that would show up unexpectedly with bags of chicken wings and other goodies. It's a miracle that we didn't all flunk out that year.
It had been ten years or more since some of us had seen each other, longer than I ever would have imagined after the year we spent living in that dump of a house. Ten years, four husbands, two fiancees, and seven kids later, but we didn't miss a beat. As much as things had changed - we are now mothers, wives, professionally employed, stay-at-home-moms, we all still laugh exactly the same way.
And to find each other, after all these years, and still have so much to talk about. That is truly special. I feel so lucky.
I had no idea how much I missed you all until I saw you, no idea how short a weekend could be, and I think my heart will ache a little for each of you until we're all together again.