I count myself as one of the lucky few to have so many friendships that date back to my Luv-it jeans days. In 3rd through 5th grades I think I had a pair with roller skates and pair with the word “Disco” on them. And friends from my junior high days when I wore guess jeans with zippers on the ankles, and high school friends who have proof of my insanely over sized bangs and blue eye shadow. And college friends who remember my sound effect party tricks and hand sewn wrap skirts, and friends from my early work days when I wore purple power suits and panty hose (see earlier post).
These are people who know my darkest sides, my dirtiest of laundry, and still love me. They’ve seen me do and say some stupid things and they’ve forgiven me. And they call me on the carpet when it’s needed.
I can call on them in my darkest or brightest hours and they are there to support me or slap me out of it. Sometimes they even call right when I need them to, using their old friend telepathic powers. And when they need me to do the same, I am honored to be there for them, in sickness and in health.
They believe in me more than I believe in myself sometimes. They can snap me out of any funk. And cheer me on to do things greater than I could have imagined on my own.
For these old pals I am forever grateful.