The 3rd of 4

Today I embark on yet another journey to another wedding. The third of four this summer.

Em, the bride, and I were close at one time. Tight, like sisters. Former housemates and allies in the fight against the bipolar bitch we lived with. She loved being naked and after many a margarita, nakedness was a sure thing with her. She has an infectious giggle and in the years since college, it still persists in making me shrug up my shoulders and cover my mouth in shared laughter. She is much changed, outwardly, that is. From a frumpy, hippy girl with long locks, no make up and unshaven legs to mini skirts, tanned skin, blonde highlights and manicured nails. Her SoCal life and my NorCal existence are at odds but yet the thread of our shared history is so intricately and delicately woven into my being, I wouldn't know where to cut without losing something vital.

We used to be a crew. Em, Lil Bun, Dokey and myself. When we were fresh from college the four of us would make a point of getting together. I remember us saying that even when we were older, married, or mothers, we would make a point of gathering once a year in sisterhood. That is a promise none of us have kept though we meant it at the time. Now, we send birthday greetings and Christmas cards. No gifts. We see each other as we once were and know highlights of our current lives but not the nitty gritty essence of it.

I don't mean to sound pining. Friendships evolve with time and space. People change. Where one friendship has drifted, another moves in to fill the void. These things happen. And there is a certain comfort in meeting up with old friends to rehash your wild times, a certain fondness that follows such a reunion. And at the same time, that comfort can be stifling when you know you are not entirely that person anymore and they can't see that. Or won't see that. I tend to feel a bit boxed in and I am clausterphobic. But I will survive. It is, afterall, only one weekend out of my entire life. I bet I will surprise myself by having a great time. It's a wedding, a party, a mini-break getaway. Now is not the time for sour seriousness. It is time to hop in the car and head on out to Murphys.

I'll be back Monday with plenty of stories.