Better late than never

I have some great friends. Like, always and forever, BFF, KIT kind of friends – and a handful of them. One of them is even going to get on an airplane more than a thousand miles away today with the sole goal of seeing me, and she’s not the first. Another really great friend (with whom I will be celebrating 15 fabulous years together this Monday – at least in spirit) has already visited me twice.

But the one thing I lament about my various sisterhoods is that I didn’t get to meet them sooner. Aside from my relationship with Mrs. Jay, I met most of my great gal pals in college -- and even Mrs. Jay and I met up after all our childhood toys had been put away and boys became our hobby. No skipping rope. No dressing Barbies. No running around a room for fun. No plastic pool parties. No best friend blood pacts. No Legos. No Hot Wheels. No slumber parties with store-bought card invitations.

Instead, my friendships have revolved around coming-of-age events like prom and college applications, boyfriends and fiancés, missions and marriages, and children. We talk about grown-up things like buying homes and finding careers and raising respectable youngsters. We worry about the world we live in and whether we’re doing our part. It’s important stuff; it’s great stuff. And it’s certainly stuff you need to hash out with a close friend (or five or six).

But sometimes, sometimes you just want to run a lemonade stand instead.