On New Year’s Day, my friend Brianne sent an email to our group of friends that expressed her hope that we could have a yearly girls’ trip. We all replied in the affirmative, with possible location ideas that would be fun for late summer. We needed babies to get older, pregnancies to get farther along, jobs to get more secure. The emails slowed down, and the planning was shelved. I figured someone would pick it back up in a month or two.
And then life happened, and we decided that late summer wasn’t soon enough, we needed to be together now. This past weekend we traveled through horrible storms to San Francisco for a weekend dedicated to just us – no husbands or boyfriends or work or babies allowed.
We told lots of stories and tried to recall the days we met each other fifteen years ago. Our stories are loud and hilarious. We finish each other’s sentences. We can still make each other laugh, which is good, because laughter is how we’ve gotten through all that life has thrown our way – and there has been a lot thrown our way.
Spending time with my friends is good for my soul. They know how I’m feeling just by looking at me. I know their secrets, and they know mine. We are a (loud) unstoppable group when we’re together.
I look back at the time we all lived together with so much appreciation. I was so lucky to live with my best friends, to build life-long bonds that have carried me through my worst days. My family and friends are how I measure my life. I would do anything for them, and they have done everything for me.
On Saturday we were all cozy under blankets in our suite at the Clift Hotel, watching a chick flick, eating junk and sipping champagne. I was snug on the couch, with Jackie’s feet in my lap (yep, her feet, I clearly love her a lot). We were all laughing, and I looked around the room at all of my friends. A perfect moment in a perfect weekend.
I wish we could have a million more exactly like this.