I met her at my sister’s wedding. I was the maid of honor and she was the guest book attendant. I was immediately drawn to her just as my sister said I would be. By nights end, we had agreed to be roommates at Columbia International University the following year. She was a year older than me so she already had a year of college behind her which somehow gave me confidence by association going into my freshman year.
She was fun and funny, playful and vivacious, blond and gorgeous. She was dramatic, jealous, passionate and, by the standards of our small Bible college in South Carolina, she could be downright scandalous.
It was little things that bonded us at first: we wore the same size shoes and could share clothes and both had an unnatural love for our favorite musicals. But we shared a lot more than just a room during those years in college. We shared dreams and drama, heartache and heartbreaks as well as a love for the Lord.
As the years have passed, we have graduated and grown up. I have watched as she remained fiercely loyal to those she loved, even the ones who weren’t so loyal in return. She has taught me to play more, laugh harder and not take myself so seriously. She is beautifully human.
These days we only get to see each other about once a year. Four years ago we went to New York and ate pizza in Brooklyn and saw Wicked on Broadway. The year after that, she came here for a weekend (with me and my 3 kids…not exactly a walk down 5th Avenue, but still). We keep in touch fairly regularly and always pick up where we left off no matter how long it’s been.
She is one of my favorite people and today, she is getting married. In normal life, she is on her end of the country and I am on mine. She has people there, I have people here, and our lives have continued seperately. But this weekend, I am meeting her people. I am meeting her man. And we will celebrate the fact that she has finally found her someone.