MONDAY MORNING MEMORY
We were - what - maybe 5 or 6 years old when I first remember really loving her. We were at the beach. We shared a penchant for bathing suits full of sand, outdoor showers, and Rainbow Brite. We memorized every word to dozens of songs and then made our parents watch the "choreography" we made up while jumping on our beds. We created crowns for ourselves - princesses we were.
We laughed and laughed.
And cried when we had to leave each other.
And now we are - what - maybe 30 years old when I remembered again why I continue loving her. We live in different states. We see each other only a handful of times a year. We disagree on whether or not Fox is good television. We view politics differently (and sometimes not so differently). We discuss raising children instead of Rainbow Brite. We worry about our parents instead of princesses. We still memorize the words to songs, though jumping on the bed will now be words we sing to our kids - about little monkeys and the dangers of falling off and hitting your head.
And we still laugh.
And we still cry.