Old Friends

We raised our babies together, all four of them.  We took family vacations together.  We took Mom-and-Kid vacations together.  The boys played on the same teams, practiced on the same fields, went to the same school.  Their younger sisters did much the same, two little girls following along on the bigger kids' playgroup adventures, accepted without question. 

Our husbands liked one another.  

We spent this weekend together, interrupted by her 2 day conference at a  local, swanky, uber-unfriendly resort.  She was caught up in the FAA mishap and arrived hours later than expected, but we still managed to take a walk on Christina's path.  

We used to walk along Chicago's lakefront.  As we walked again this morning I was reminded that she starts out faster than I do, but I finish stronger.  I showed off my neighborhood as we discussed the desert flora and the joys and follies and foibles of those we know.  

It was as if no time had passed.  She gaped at the clouds hovering over the mountains, just as we used to marvel at  frozen waters on Lake Michigan.  We kept the same pace.  We wanted to turn around at the same time.  The same little muscles in our legs were twitching at the same time.

On her last night here, she brought her cousin to share the joy.  Over a bottle of prosecco and an uninspiring sunset, the three of us sat outside and told stories and talked over one another and corrected dates of things that happened decades ago.  They were all family stories, some of theirs, some of mine, all them ours.  

It was raining as I drove her to the airport.  The weather was as sad as I was.  I texted her while she waited to board her plane - Come back for a visit, or forever.

A girl can dream, can't she?