I graduated 46 years ago but those friends still hold a corner of my heart. This weekend 6 of them will come to my house for a weekend of laughter, whispered conversations in the dark, a glass of wine on the deck. We will tell each other lies (you haven't changed a bit) and truths (I hated that guy you dated junior year), we will share tears over divorces, deaths, breast cancer, lymphoma, cheating husbands and weight gain that we can't blame on "that time of the month," and we'll talk until our voices get scratchy. We'll confess to things we thought we'd never tell anyone in our whole lives, and we'll ask for advice we might or might not take. We'll be fussed over and at and we'll love on each other. We'll walk proudly into a restaurant, promptly put on our reading glasses, make multiple trips to the bathroom and remember when we could go from morning to night without even one trip (who wanted to go in the school bathrooms!), and agonize over whether to order the salad acting like we diet all the time or order the cheesecake and a side order of fries. How do I know? Because this isn't the first time we've done this. Or the second.
I never laugh as hard as I do when I'm with these women. We're nothing alike, any of us. But we're just alike, all of us. We're tall and short, fat and skinny, married and divorced, wrinkled and....well, not quite as wrinkled. We've walked some hard roads and some narrow paths. We have so, so much in common, so many bonds. We're all women and we're all Christians, we're all Pine Bluff High School Zebras, and we're all friends. Sisters of the Heart - that's what we call ourselves. And when we walk into that restaurant Saturday night we'll all wear shirts that say that because we're proud of it. And of each other. And besides, if we all dress alike none of us will get lost. Reading glasses only work so far you know.