Over the 12 or 13 years I've known Emily, many people have asked, "How did you two meet?" I think what they mean is, "How do you stay so connected to one another?"
Then I tell the story of how we met at a mutal friend's wedding, got put in the same room at the bed and breakfast, and stayed up crying about how beautiful it was to love and be loved. We said we'd get together for lunch once we were back in Seattle. The miracle, maybe more than anything, is that we did. (And this, by the way, is perhaps my biggest tip for forming friendships. Initiate and follow up. Get our your *%$ calendar. Puget Sounders suck at that.)
And the miracles keep coming--her being Wyatt's godmother and there when Loretta was born, constantly reading my mind (or knowing before I do) what book needs to come into my life next or what compliment I need. And the letters. I have boxes of hers, she has boxes of mine. I want to make a book of them one day. Not just the text typed onto a page, but her beautiful architect's handwriting and the things she manages to make envelopes out of.
At this point in our lives, with 90 miles between us and so many things competing for our attention, time together is the best gift. When she leaves tomorrow afternoon, we'll have shared 2 breakfasts, 3 lunches, and 2 dinners. That's my love language for sure.
Happy 2014, sister. Thank you for our years together and all those to come. I love you.
P.S. Thanks to Wyatt for the photo. It's hard not be pretty loosened up when he's got his finger on the shutter.