"Mrs. Morgan, our 5th grade teacher, commented on our picture."
We looked at the comment in which she compared our "sweetness" now to our 5th grade sweetness. We laughed, knowing that the extra glow in our present picture was induced by alcohol, giggles, and girl time, while any such comparable 5th grade feature was likely a result of jell-o mix (which we created a buffet with on our desks and shared with the entire class in 5th grade) or simply, extreme innocence. Regardless, Mrs. Morgan's comments and mine and Brittany's subsequent conversation led to long reflection on the goodness of my girlfriends.
There are 5 girls that were entirely engrained in my life growing up, Amanda, Brittany, Katie E, Katie B, and Ashley. Nearly every single memory from my childhood includes one, or all of these girls.
Brittany was my first friend, my first sleepover, my first shopping trip. We shared shoes and coordinated outfits and vehemently begged our parents to request we have the same teachers throughout elementary school (which, I believe, we succeeded at).
Amanda was my sensible friend, the one who challenged me to think beyond my limits. At one point, Amanda and I convinced our 4th grade teacher to let us stay inside for recess so we could scribe a play. She set the expectation for creative potential in classroom projects and acted as a leader in new endeavors.
Ashley, inherently acting as a perfect mediator between my sister and I, was my family friend. Just as frequently as I was at my own house, I was at her house. Our parents didn't spare disciplinary action for just one of us, they considered us both children in need of shaping. We did everything sisters did, we giggled, dressed up and took pictures, got in trouble, fought (and made up immediately).
Katie E was my adventurous friend. Her and I, and others, would load into her car and drive to an old abandon house. If we felt especially brave, we'd meander through the house, tip-toeing across creaky floorboards, forcing ghostly illusions into our eyes as a means of spicing our experience up. When walking a fine line between safety and potential unknown, Katie acted as my encouragement, promising bravery befitting of the two of us.
Katie B was the friend who taught me limits are meant to be reached and then, expanded. Her and I would write long letters to each other, encouraging one another in our respective sports. When I wanted a friend to drive with me to soccer practice in Sioux Falls, Katie occupied my passenger seat. As she shattered her own goals, she taught me the importance of setting goals for myself as well, she taught me that within us all lies some sort of great potential, waiting to be released through dedication (and a little sweat).
These five girls have created me. These are the girls I got in trouble with, peed my pants with, shared twin beds with, laughed with, cried with. These are the girls that I still seek when I need someone to talk to, encourage me to be bold, laugh with, cry with, get in trouble with, (we no longer pee our pants, thank goodness). Sometimes, as adults, I find our starkly different, but these differences are quickly assuaged under the years that have cultivated our friendship. These are the girls that have seen me at my worst and encouraged me to be my best.
These girls are my five dearest friends, my handpicked sisters. These are the girls that have defined love in the realm of friendship, these are my best friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment