This is my friend Andrea. She and I have known each other since the fall of fourth grade. We were basically forced upon each other by our fathers, who both worked for the same company and became buds. We didn't really like each other at first. I thought she was too quiet and kind of a nerd; she thought I was wild and crazy. We hated each other's outfits. By the first week of being in school together, we were inseparable. She is my oldest friend. We have known each other through shared crushes, the one big awkward that is puberty, high school boyfriends, unfair parents, driver's licenses, sneaking out of the house, and our first real love: dr pepper lipsmackers. She came for the weekend to recall what sun feels like, as she has been deprived of it in dreary Seattle since September. I dragged her ass up Squaw Peak, we layed in the sun, danced on the platform at one of Scottsdale's many pretentious nightclubs, rummaged PHX's retail offerings, and admired the local foliage. What I love about old friends is the lack of explanation required. She knows it all. Whenever we get to see each other, we momentarily revert back to the 12 year olds at Greenacres Jr High. The only difference is before, we were gasping and laughing about zits, our love "fire", and whether she was old enough to shave her legs. Now, we laugh and gasp about careers, marriage, and the impending doom of adulthood. As long as we are gasping and laughing, I find joy in it all.
This is my friend Andrea. She and I have known each other since the fall of fourth grade. We were basically forced upon each other by our fathers, who both worked for the same company and became buds. We didn't really like each other at first. I thought she was too quiet and kind of a nerd; she thought I was wild and crazy. We hated each other's outfits. By the first week of being in school together, we were inseparable. She is my oldest friend. We have known each other through shared crushes, the one big awkward that is puberty, high school boyfriends, unfair parents, driver's licenses, sneaking out of the house, and our first real love: dr pepper lipsmackers. She came for the weekend to recall what sun feels like, as she has been deprived of it in dreary Seattle since September. I dragged her ass up Squaw Peak, we layed in the sun, danced on the platform at one of Scottsdale's many pretentious nightclubs, rummaged PHX's retail offerings, and admired the local foliage. What I love about old friends is the lack of explanation required. She knows it all. Whenever we get to see each other, we momentarily revert back to the 12 year olds at Greenacres Jr High. The only difference is before, we were gasping and laughing about zits, our love "fire", and whether she was old enough to shave her legs. Now, we laugh and gasp about careers, marriage, and the impending doom of adulthood. As long as we are gasping and laughing, I find joy in it all. 
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1 comments:
I haven't been on your blog in a while, and I didn't see this! You almost made me cry. I HAD SO MUCH FUN! hurry up and move so we can have a new adventure :)
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