Misty Watercolored Memories

It seems so weird to spell out "memories" because I've never belted along with Babs and enunciated mem-or-ries. It's always mem-ries...

Nevertheless: memories. 

Last night my childhood BFF and I celebrated our twentieth anniversary together. It started out as a joke, but then it became this real and fierce thing. Something like, yes, dammit, we've been through a lot in twenty years, the only other relationships we've had that exceed that in length have been with our parents, so our twenty years matter! 

This also happens to be the weekend of her wedding, so sniffles, tears, and mem'ries abound. 

Time Machine: Big hair. Bad bangs. Bad boys. We've been through them all, together. 

Time Machine: Big hair. Bad bangs. Bad boys. We've been through them all, together. 

Our "anniversary dinner" was pretty much a flashback: I went over to her mom's house, we chatted, we laughed, we hopped in the car (she oohed and aahed over the newness) and were paralyzed with indecision about where to eat dinner. There aren't that many choices in The Warp. We drove around and around town, guzzling gas and punctuating our conversations with laughter. We cranked up the stereo and sang along to classic ballads. And we talked about our nerves at the next chapters in our lives. After I dropped her off, I pulled into the garage and my mom and dad's house. Home before eleven, score! 

Then I remembered I no longer have a curfew, so my fist-pump in the garage was pointless. And as I stared at my reflection in the mirror while I was getting ready for bed (yes, I'm now a bad romance novel heroine), I was a little shocked. All night long, I'd been about sixteen years old. Staring back at me was not a sixteen-year-old Lexi. 

But you know what? I wouldn't go back to being sixteen for a million bucks. I wouldn't even go back to those first days, twenty years ago (we met in kindergarten, yeah, that's the party line, kindergarten) when we were tiny things. (Funny story: we both thought the other hated us and knew each other for years before we became BFFs.)

I have a box full of photos of us being silly. A box full of letters from a time before ubiquitous wifi was a thing. But more than that, I have a heart full of memories with this crazy, amazing woman I'm proud to call my friend. 

Here's to the next twenty, sweet Lala. I think we'll look smashing in rubies.