In something like 2.5 hours, our daughter turns sixteen. As a result (interesting way to say that, right) 9 girls are playing some game that involves listing names and laughing loudly and yelling in our living room. Sometime soon, this giggle of girls, (for that is what they are called, right?) will pour down the half-flight of stairs to the family room where they will have what is euphemistically known as a sleep-over.
I have a sense of desperation as I write, knowing that I have to be out of the office (which adjoins the family room) if I value my life and sanity. And, as I think about the meeting I have at 6 tomorrow morning, I am already lamenting the sleep I will not get.
Some of these girls started middle school as lunch table friends, occupying a table in opposition to the cool girls. These friends, in our living room right now, were the nice girls, the friendly girls, the inclusive girls, the teased girls, the stable girls. Their laughter right now suggests that is it possible to be nice (not snobby) and still have fun. It is possible to know each other for five years, through three years of middle school, two yers of high school, and still be able to laugh and talk and be friends.
Tonight I have hope for the future if these girls are part of it. And, for sixteen years, we have had Hope as a future.
Happy birthday, Jar.
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