in , , by Erin Lynne, January 05, 2013
Once upon a time in a small town in Indiana just a smidge over twenty-nine years ago, a young couple had a baby girl. About eight years later, that family moved from that little town in Indiana to an even littler one in Kentucky. And at Sunday school one morning, the little Indiana girl met a little Kentucky girl (who probably gave her crap about Bobby Knight within the hour), and these little girls became friends.

Elementary school turned to middle school, and these girls were still friends. Sunday school hours were spent trying to find out if cussing was in fact a sin, and church services were spent writing notes and drawing pictures in the balcony. There were Christmas musicals, lock ins, and even a lovely duet that somehow turned into more of a solo thanks to a certain boy showing up. The Kentucky girl tried to teach about why the Wildcats would always be superior to the Hoosiers, and the Indiana girl tried to teach the members of the Mickey Mouse Club. Neither of them really had an interest in what the other was saying, but they pretended, because that's what friends do.

Middle school turned to high school and these girls were still friends. There were lots of bangs, lots of lipstick, and even spirit stars. Caving expeditions, teen choir, and the discussions of basketball and television stars turned to talk of real life boys. There was laughter, tears, and alibis were shared, because that's what friends do.

High school turned to college, and these girls were still friends. The miles apart weren't an issue, and this was even before email and Facebook. Visits occurred and memories were made, and even though these girls went through a lot those four, ahem, five years, they remained in touch, because that's what friends do.

College turned into real life, and against all odds, those girls remained friends. There was tragedy, there were celebrations, and each knew the other was only a phone call away. If the Kentucky girl is beside herself because she literally feels like her heart is broken to pieces, she knows who to call. If the Indiana girl (who is now more of an east coast girl) is in shock that the stick finally shows two lines, she knows who to call. If one of these girls ever needed the other, for ANYTHING, she'd be there. Because that's what friends do... Or maybe, at this point in their lives, that's what family does.

To the girl who I most definitely consider family, to the bestest friend I could ask for, to the one who's known me most of my life, seen me at my lowest, knows all of my faults and crazy past, and somehow still loves me, I wish the very happiest of birthdays. I love you.

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