Sitting in a Greek Café, I daydreamed aloud about going to Europe. Without missing a beat, you said “let’s go!”. Within a few months, tickets were booked, hotels reserved, and a mountain of memories was on its way. Though I have had, and will have, many more trips to Europe, nothing can overshadow those summer weeks spent hopping from plane to plane, from city to city. Remember alternatively falling asleep and giggling hysterically at the airport in Spain? That loco night at Razmatazz? Meeting our supposedly attractive tour guides in Barcelona? Hair dryer mishaps in Paris? Nights spent eating delicious seafood in Positano as the waves crashed just feet away from us? Last night your parents came over for dinner, and your dad and mine rambled for almost an hour about their trip to Italy…20 years ago. It’s reassuring to know that 20 years from now, that will be us – sitting around a table with our families, telling stories from our “crazy youth” while our kids and husbands roll their eyes and say “there they go again”.
Our friendship started as a necessity. Our parents were best friends so we were naturally expected to bond. Over time, through distance, arguments and many incredible memories, we’ve become friends and, even family, by choice. Our friendship is forever, and that’s the best kind.