lemonade and popcorn.

it started over a bowl of microwave popcorn and lemonade over ice in tall sweaty glasses. 
with straws.  of course.  the day after labor day in the year 1985.  (my first day of school in the new neighborhood.)  our moms hooked us up and officially put together an unofficial surprise playdate immediately after school. 

it's hard to remember much else about that day. 

i know it never felt awkward or pushed.  it tasted of freshly squeezed (though totally from a can if you know my mom) lemonade.  there was a breeze pushing it's way through the screens of the porch.  there was probably a billowy flower in a vase on the table.  it felt immediate and lovely. 

and it still feels that way.

a friendship beyond best. 

over the years we lived close together and far apart.  we've had overnight camps and night before weddings.  we've held hands, exchanged glances and been a supportive shoulder.  we've said hellos and goodbyes in so many different places.  we comfort.  we calm.  we listen.  we speak. 
perhaps not often enough.

but just right, i guess.  because honestly.  there is this amazing lack of timespace between us.  we are immediately right back to where we always have been.  small talk feels awkward.  it's the heavy and the deep that feel safe when we are together.

and jellybeans are always eaten appropriately.

love to you my dear friend.