Things We Love

Twenty-three years is a long time to be friends.
But not too long.
My best friend Page, from Alaska, came to visit last week.
We stayed up late and laughed.
Laughed until the tears came, and we love that.
We forgot that we were mature mamas to many and only remembered that we like to dress up and take pictures of ourselves.
We put on loud music and dance partied with our kids because we still want to be liked and thought of as fun.
They like us, and we love that.

And they like each other. I was a bit surprised when our boys come down in matching camo shorts, holding hands, and claiming they were on the same team.
Our house was a little boy war zone from dawn to dusk, and we love that.

I write poetry and Page likes to shop and our children encompass the whole range of our personalities with dashes of our fun husbands thrown in for good measure.

Our kids make us laugh, and we love that.

Our daughters looked at pictures of us when we were young and were scandalized by our vanity and trendy apparel.

They are modest, sweet, little women, and we love that.

Page and I see the laughter lurking in the mundane.

We gather the joy up wherever we can find it, make a bouquet out of it, and put it in a vase to gloat over.

We speak the same language, understand each other's reactions and feelings, and share a common history.

We grow up together in Christ.

Twenty-three years is a long time to be friends.

But not too long,

and we love that.