Prior to these moments, I treasured two crumpled images.

Michelle and I were raised in an age without cell phones, and especially selfies. We weren't able to daily afflict the world with traffic light snapshots of our flannel, Docs, and acne (and this is a good thing). We slathered glitter over every inch of our exposed body, donned baby barrettes in our freshly bleached hair, and pored over the new Delia's catalog as we listened to both parent-approved and unapproved music. We shared each other's closets, and took each other's brothers to prom. We gave each other both wise and horrible advice as we navigated boys, school, and church. We were good friends for nearly a decade.