I may be obsessed with these raw edged baby quilts. This one is for my oldest friend, Laura. We met in 1990 when we were 12 and I had just moved in. I didn't know anyone, she knew everyone (and still does). She rescued me from total isolation when I got up to get a drink from the sink in the back of the classroom in junior high, the pipe fell off underneath, the room began flooding, and we all sat on top of our desks until the janitor could come in with a water vac and rescue us. Thanks for sharing your desk with me.
1994
So here's to you, oldest and best friend. You know everything about me and don't hold it against me. To bad boyfriends, even worse 90's music, and staying up all night for Mr. Anderson's class. Caboodles filled with lip gloss, high school awkwardness and football games. To sunburns and horses at Sunriver, deaths and births of both people and pets, rocks at my window late at night.
That stupid cotillion after high school, packing and moving, broken hearts and moving on. You've always been the one to straighten the train on my wedding dress, bring gifts for my children, and come help me pick up the pieces in between, even when you could have said 'I told you so'. I know you'll be the best mother. And you'll see why I didn't call the minute my first baby was out . . . again, sorry about that. I love you, babe. To another twenty years and more.
2006
I may be obsessed with these raw edged baby quilts. This one is for my oldest friend, Laura. We met in 1990 when we were 12 and I had just moved in. I didn't know anyone, she knew everyone (and still does). She rescued me from total isolation when I got up to get a drink from the sink in the back of the classroom in junior high, the pipe fell off underneath, the room began flooding, and we all sat on top of our desks until the janitor could come in with a water vac and rescue us. Thanks for sharing your desk with me. 
So here's to you, oldest and best friend. You know everything about me and don't hold it against me. To bad boyfriends, even worse 90's music, and staying up all night for Mr. Anderson's class. Caboodles filled with lip gloss, high school awkwardness and football games. To sunburns and horses at Sunriver, deaths and births of both people and pets, rocks at my window late at night. 
That stupid cotillion after high school, packing and moving, broken hearts and moving on. You've always been the one to straighten the train on my wedding dress, bring gifts for my children, and come help me pick up the pieces in between, even when you could have said 'I told you so'. I know you'll be the best mother. And you'll see why I didn't call the minute my first baby was out . . . again, sorry about that. I love you, babe. To another twenty years and more. 
No comments:
Post a Comment