Corey and Alex are coming to visit for a long weekend and I’ve been counting the days until their arrival. I haven’t lived in the same city as my oldest, dearest friend since 1993, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about friendships it’s that distance doesn’t matter. If you want the relationship to last, then you make it work. Loyalty is everything.
This photo was taken on St. Patrick’s Day in 2012 when we spend a long weekend in Atlanta. Clearly I’d forgotten to pack a green shirt, but I made up for it with a four-leaf clover necklace.
In previous years, our get-togethers were punctuated by nap times, keeping young kids busy and happy, and tucking little boys into bed at a decent hour. We scarcely carried on a conversation that wasn’t spoken in code or chopped up into pieces because there was always someone who needed to use the potty.
This was in 2005, well before Jackson was born:
Now our visits are more relaxed since the boys can occupy themselves and we all give each other mutual respect and space. When we say to them, “Go play,” we are saying, “Leave us alone unless one of you is bleeding or on fire.” We feed them, then send them off, because that’s how you nurture a 24-year-old friendship that functions mainly through telephone calls and emails. Weekends like these are sacred.