A belated valentine

A friend I met in college once told my husband that we became friends because I showed up at her door and said, "Hi, I'm M. Let's be friends." My husband (then boyfriend) laughed and said I'd come over one day and never went home.

While neither is telling the exact truth, they're right in that our relationships developed quickly and naturally in a way that made it clear no matter what happened, we'd permanently be a part of each other's lives. With my friend, it was that I knocked on her door, introduced myself and we started talking. Now it's hard to remember a time when we didn't know each other. WHen we didn't call each other about the big stuff.

With my husband, I showed up to apply for a job and while neither of us can remember what the other said, we remember that I said something that made him laugh, he says I gave him "the smile" and he instantly hoped I'd get the job. It took us several months to actually start dating, but from the moment of that first kiss, it was over or just beginning, depending upon how you look at it. And if I never went home, it's because he asked me not to.

For whatever reason, it seems the friendships that are meant to be, the ones where in that person you find something amazing seem to happen that way for me - in an instant, unrecognizable at the time for its significance. I can't remember the first conversation I had with a third friend of mine, I'm willing to bet the first time we discussed anything it was directly related to her pregnancy or mine, as ours overlapped a few months. I don't remember what it was, in fact I remember very little of our conversations from back then. Ah, but the conversations now!

To she who shall not be named, but must surely recognize herself in this post - I thank you. For the countless times I called you crying and you made me laugh, for helping me hold it together when it has felt like everything was falling apart, for reminding me of my strength when I didn't feel strong. For not cringing when I'm so mad that I'm cussing like a sailor, for understanding my pride and frustration regarding the kiddos, for not judging if you hear Elmo in the background. For telling me my kids are beautiful in a way that makes it clear you mean it, just like I mean it when I say Oh my god, we make gorgeous kids.

For knowing exactly what I mean when I say "It's Almost Funny," when I'm at the end of my rope, and sending me a freaking tshirt that says that. You know how incredibly rocking that is, right? I mean seriously, do you truly know how cool that is? Because I just might sleep with that shirt tonight. My mantra, our private joke that got me through preterm labor, GD, prodromal labor, rough birth, the little's pneumonia, stress of epic proportions and my own health issues.....on a tshirt. A tshirt that came in a care package full of nutritious snacks, chocolate, chicken noodle soup, calgon and more that made me feel so utterly CARED FOR and TAKEN CARE OF that my heart is just brimming with amazement.

Someday, we are going to meet in person. We're going to have a girl's weekend someplace near you, me or somewhere in the middle and drink cosmos or margaritas or both and marvel at how we don't remember how we became friends, it just happened. Maybe we'll make it a tradition, an annual thing when the kids are old enough, buying airline tickets on sale to random cities (wherever S.west has a special, eh?) or saving our pennies for a road trip to some place in the middle. We'll sit and talk and just randomly say things like "dildocam" and "almost funny" and fall into fits of giggles in the wee hours of the morning.

Even when we're, like, 80.