I realized this weekend: I think I’ll always remember the way to Cherry’s house. Well, her parents house, now. For 18 years we’ve been close friends, and for about as long I’ve been making that winding drive.
In the back of their old school Suburban, in their van, in our huge van, or riding shotgun in Cherry’s S-10 with our favorite music blaring.
Eager to get there so we could play Polly Pockets.. or so we could climb on the hay bales and hide from our brothers and ride the 4 wheeler… or so we could play Oregon Trail on the computer and email our friends… or so I could help with her wedding preparations.
It’s nice to have roots in the beautiful plains. But it’s a hundred times better to have roots in a steady, caring friendship. Like ours.