Where We're Coming From

We'd slept in Meghan's living room.  For reasons I can't quite recall we'd picked that tiny front room in her parent's house, an old rambling sort of house, just off Main Street, rather than opting for the den in the back of the house where we'd have more room to spread out, or even camping out upstairs in the bedroom Meghan shared with her sister.  We'd fallen asleep as high school girls usually do at sleepovers; mid-sentence, mid-conversation, mid-gossip.  I can't remember our exact set-up, but I'm sure we were sprawled across various couches, sleeping bags, and pillows tossed about.

I woke before the other girls, the distant thunder and steady downpour of a summer storm rousing me from sleep.  It was early, not even 7 yet.  The windows were cracked open slightly, the house was still and quiet.  As I laid there, on Meghan's parents couch, with some of the closest friends I'd ever had in my seventeen years asleep beside me, I looked out to the street, in our quiet little hometown, watching the rain fall.  I remember, as clear as if it was yesterday, thinking to myself how precious, how fleeting this moment was that I was getting, what a brief gift I'd been given by waking before the rest of the house.  These are my friends, I thought to myself.  This is our home.  For I knew, even then, that a chapter was coming to a close.  Things would never, could never, be the same once we all headed our separate ways for college that fall.  A page was turning, the next chapter not yet written.

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June 13th marked fifteen years since the night of my high school graduation.  Don't ask me how I remember this date, these are just the sort of things I know.  This year, on June 13th, the little boy I baby-sat during that long, lovely summer before college, graduated from my -from our - high school as well. Oh, the passage of time.  It never ceases to shock, amaze, and mystify me.

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Of course, time did march on for my friends and I that summer of 1997, just as I knew it would.  By early September the four of us were packed and off to our various colleges, spread all the way up the East Coast, from Virginia to Massachusetts.  And, just as I'd suspected, things never were exactly the same again.  There were new boys to have crushes on, new teachers to complain about, new classes that were causing us stress.  There were new stories to share when we'd gather together over our breaks, as our worlds had expanded, moving beyond the sheltered cement walls of our shared high school experience. 

Once out of college, it took the four of us a few years to develop a groove.  At first we gathered in fits and starts.  We might catch one another at random - meeting at the one bar in our hometown over a long weekend or running into one another at the mall a few towns over from ours around Christmas time.  Our lives continued to expand, our schedules never fell utterly in sync.  I cannot say I didn't have a part in this, for in my early twenties I wanted only to see the world, to keep moving, keep changing, without stopping.  There was a lull in our meet-ups, a pause in the late night gossip, giggles, and chats of years past.

But then the circle came 'round again, a circles are wont to do.  We started with a weekend when both Moira and I lived in New York City.  Alicia came up from DC, Meghan, up from New Jersey.  We assembled at a bar in mid-town one Friday night, catching up over a local micro-brew of two.  From there, we took the subway back to my apartment, where we poured wine and ate unhealthy snacks.  We caught up, we shared stories, we gossiped, we wonder aloud about whatever happened to ____.  We dug out an old yearbook.  Before long we had pulled on our pj's, piled our hair in ponytails, and started a dance party among our blow-up mattresses, pillows, and suitcases, laughing until our sides hurt.  And suddenly, we remembered.  The four of us were really good at this friend thing. 

So we started planning.  Now we aim for a mini-reunion every six months or so, alternating between the various cities and towns we all call home.  With busy jobs and marriages and purchasing houses and babies, our schedules get more complicated these days, our planning is often pushed further out, our agendas have now become less about what we'd like to see or do wherever we are, and more about how much time we get to be together. 

Just to be together.

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This past weekend we met up in New York City.  Meghan is pregnant with baby boy number two and the doctors have told her to take it easy in her third trimester.  She passed on most of the weekend plans, meeting us only for brunch Saturday morning instead, driving north to Hoboken, stealing away for a few precious hours, and the four of us reunited again.  It was at this brunch, as Meghan recounted a hilarious story about her sister's recent bachelorette party, that I found myself remembering that long-ago high school sleep over and the quiet, rainy morning that followed.  And I found myself once again taking note.  I sat back in my chair, my stomach full of delicious eggs, home fries, and a Bloody Mary and I watched and listened to my friends giggle over Meg's story.

I realize that life will only get more hectic from here, I fear that our gatherings will become harder and harder to coordinate.  And yet we will still have them.  I know we will.  We must.  For I had a brief thought on Saturday - one I did my best to banish from my brain as quickly as it arrived, as it was one I did not wish to linger on.  But one day - and I hope it is a day far, far away from this one - we won't all be able to get together.  And I do not wish, I cannot imagine the day when one of our four seats is left empty, if our circle were to ever grow smaller.

These girls.  Oh, these girls who have known me since I was fourteen.  They remember who I went to the prom with, they still know who I really wanted to go to the prom with.  They were the first people to drive me around once they got their driver's license, they were some of the first people I drove around once I finally got my own license.  They are some of the few friends who knew and remember the house I grew up in, they are the people I turn to when I want to talk about my hometown, reminisce about my past, remember the girl I was some 15 years ago.  We grew up together, these girls and I.  And oh, I love them so.