It was the perfect end to a perfect day. It was a beautiful fall evening. The festivities had ended, and I was surrounded by every love of my life. A large group of us were sitting around in a semicircle around the fireplace in a bed and breakfast in Sedona in a post-wedding day stupor – me, my new husband and my dearest childhood friends (who had all flown in specially for the occasion). One of my closest friends–and the one who’d married my husband and I that day–I’d known since the first day of kindergarten.
It didn’t take long before we were laughing boisterously over dinner, singing, reminiscing, and embracing as if we’d all had too much wine (no, just drunk on each other’s company) – as the husbands exchanged looks, confirming, ‘Yup, this happens every time they’re together.’ Although we live nearly a continent apart, the five of us turn into teenagers again each time we are reunited, never skipping a beat in our deep, rich friendships. I didn’t want this night to end, and cried yet again at our parting …
Because these were the girls that saved my life.
Let me explain.