Twelve years. It’s been 12 years.
Twelve years ago the four of us weren’t even of legal drinking age. It was the turn of the century. (Am I totally dating myself with that reference?) And we were four college kids just learning how to survive on our own. (Sometimes I think it may have been because of each other that we survived.)
We cooked up a fabulous feast that December – before we all headed home for the holidays with our families – and exchanged small tokens of our affection for one another. Then we sat in our living room talking and telling stories until the wee hours of the morning. (Those will forever remain in confidence. Or, I no longer remember.)
It was the first Roomie Christmas. Who would have guessed it’d become a thing?
Every year since, come hell or high water, the four of us have gathered together to celebrate the season.
We’ve weathered headaches and heartache. We’ve laughed, loved and lost. We’ve experienced the ups and downs of jobs (and joblessness). There have been post-graduate degrees, Broadway dreams and global travels. We’re all married now, with new families of our own. But it’s safe to say we all got by with a little help from our friends.
Here’s to friends who are family.