By Lorry Myers
I was delayed at work and then had to rush home to change. I knew they would wait for me but still, I hate to be late for anything.
Especially late for this.
Tonight, my childhood friends were waiting for me in a predetermined place where we all piled into one car, four girls, eager for the night, ready for anything.
Well, maybe not anything.
Each month, we planned for the next month, taking turns choosing what we did. Every time it’s something different, we’ve never done the same thing twice. We saved weekends for our families and went out on a week night instead, even though in the morning we each had to go to work. Friends since elementary school, these three women know all my secrets; all my good and bad.
Surprisingly, they like me anyway.
From one month to the next, we are busying living our best lives so when our night out finally rolled around, we had a lot of catching up to do. We typically chatted about kids and made fun of our husbands and tried hard to forget the alarm going off early the next morning.
When I am out with the girls, time falls away and we turn back into our old, or rather, young foolish selves. Together, we are footloose and carefree, almost giddy to be out on a school night. All those years ago, we promised to be friends forever even though we had no idea what forever would bring for each of us.
Life has a way of changing things even though you promise it never will. There is constantly something going on that stops you from spending time on yourself. Children and obligations and that never-ending thing called work offer you plenty excuses and after all, how can you possibly fit another thing into your day?
Or your night.
For the complete column see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard