The husband and I took a sharp pin and popped out of our very thick bubble this past weekend to visit my oldest friends in Indianapolis. As city dwellers, we have become accustomed to the compact, noisy, chaotic environment we exist in and sometimes feel alien when stepping out of it. The first task was to actually drive there. An automobile. I haven’t legitimately driven in about 3 years, due to factors including lack of need, pride in a clean driving record (solely due to not driving) and blatant laziness. But, for my oldest friends, I’ll do anything.
The reason for the visit was to see the children of two of my friends – one born early last year and one just three weeks ago. Most of my friends were married in their early 20’s and have long since conquered turning the oven on before cooking a meal in it. They paint baseboards on Saturdays vs. argue about who serves the best 10am Bloody Mary’s, they own lawnmowers, and they have dining room tables instead of TV trays.
Perhaps I am far too aware of my current status as a city dweller with the counter space of one of those plastic kitchens belonging to my 5-year-old niece, but I noticed a lot about my friends’ surroundings. Years of marriage, vs. a wedding registry, will get you towels for every bathroom in the house, not just, well, 8 towels. They have so many vases. They pull from their mental recipe bank, instead of scanning cookbooks. They have not only can-openers, but jar openers.
As we sat down for dinner at the sprawling table, the fond memories, inappropriate humor and non-stop laughter began. It was the same ol' crew - some of us parents, some with clean baseboards, some with dreams of bigger countertops. In the end, all grown-ups - embracing our new challenges and backed by our substantial, lifelong friendship.
Even though I knew that the next day, the husband and I would climb into a car that wasn’t ours and drive (recklessly) back to the bubble we love, it was great to stretch out for a while. And steal some jar openers.
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