We sat in our tree eating Hostess cupcakes and spying on the boys next door. It was such a big deal if her mom let us venture out of sight around the block. We walked together, content just to talk. We spent so much time together that people thought we were related. They would call us sisters although we looked nothing alike. It might have been the way we read each others minds or how we would throw our heads back and giggle in unison.
We grew up, but I can’t say it was too fast.
In high school, we were so eager to leave—and we did…often. We would sneak out and hop into her clunky old Mazda truck. We would head out of town going as fast as we could on the freeway. (It could barely reach 60mph.) We loved it! We loved how the whole truck shook when it went over 50mph—I guess we didn’t realize we were actually in danger. We would drive through the desert giggling and singing obscure songs no one else knew. We would spend the entire day wandering because our journeys were always much more interesting than our destinations.
Those times are behind us now, but our friendship is not. Although she has gone to follow her dreams, I can still remember her giggling with me up in that tree as we talked about things we knew we could get in trouble for. I still remember putting on those special songs and serenading each other in that shaky truck. We talked about these dreams often, but now for her they are a reality and I could not be more proud of who she has become.
I’m not too far away from reaching my goals either; I look to her for inspiration and support. I know we will both make it where we want to be. No matter how dangerous the road gets, we remember that our journey may well be the most interesting, yet taxing, part.
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