Once upon a time, a lady stopped us outside the movie theater. We were standing side by side, you and I, cellphones flipped in our hands, so full of giggles and self-importance, rocking our matching shirts, jeans, light-brown Sperry TopSiders...this was back when owning a pair of Sperry Topsiders was a demand made of general adolescent society. If you owned Sperrys, you were in-style, in-the-know, in-the-in-crowd...well at least we all thought so. Anyway, this lady took in our matching outfits and exclaimed "Oh! Ya'll are twins!"
Of course, we looked at her like she was crazy. I mean, come on...really? At the time, we laughed and laughed. Looking back now, though, I think I understand why that woman asked that. (In fairness to her, our fourteen-year-old selves were dressed exactly alike.) But it was more than that.
Yea, we're the same height. A hair's breadth over five feet. Yea, we both had curly brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, and big smiles. But that lady saw something different, I think.
She saw the ease of two sisters in two friends who had become so close that they became family instead.
While I'm over-the-moon happy up here in Maryland, I sometimes miss the days of jalapeno poppers, endless Friends marathons, singing Brandi Carlile, and flirting with the same boot-and-bluejean boys. And everyday I miss you, friend!
There's a guest bed in Frederick waiting with fluffy pillows and your name on it.