I sat across from her about a month ago, scrutinizing every inch of her face as she spoke. We were eating an incredible meal: bread warm from the oven, fried green tomatoes, shrimp and grits, pork tenderloin. It was the meal of a lifetime- one that we could never have afforded 15 years ago.

I couldn't believe she was sitting in front of me. I imagined us, walking to and from train stations. I imagined us lying on the ground miserable, holding our stomachs on a Tuesday after prematurely eating most of what we had rationed for Friday.

"We can always get 'Lebbo Bread' and a jar of peanut butter for the rest of the week," I'd assure her.

I'm not even sure she liked Lebbo bread. Or Australian peanut butter, but who does?

Although she best mirrored my affinity for good cake, she also shared my obsession for boys (boys who would eventually marry Brazilian models). And there she sat, right in front of me. Married. Two kids. With a house, car, cat, dog, and job. She had...

Grown up.

As much fun as it is to talk about old times- "Dove Grey Pants," "Quasimodo," "Pillow Lips," "The guy with the hair that looked like a cinnamon bun," there was difficulty in realizing my current deficit.

I miss her.

So it took me a month to come up here. It took me a month to organize my thoughts and feelings, and still I have walked away twice. I am not sure why it is such a big deal, when my life is FULL of friends who love me regardless of my current immaturity. But she- she knew me when I was so immature, I was downright stupid.

So Christina, here is to growing up. Here is to realizing that husbands turn into fathers, and I believe with conviction we both did so well there. Here is to God, who is our Provider. He gives us satisfaction at work, in relationships, and so much more food than what has to "last us to the end of the week."

I love you, friend.