Last night I joined five very dear friends for a going away dinner for one of them. Her husband is in the Air Force and is being transferred out of state, taking our friend, kicking and screaming (us, not her) with him.
Driving to the restaurant last night, the sky was changing rapidly. All day the weatherman kept saying storms were on the way, the CWS would be affected, expect high winds, hail, etc. Wouldn't you know, that as I'm driving to meet my friends, that is when the skies suddenly decide to shake, rattle, and roll while at the same time, giving a phenomenal light show.
Stopped at a light, I looked up at the sky and actually considered turning around to go back home. You would think, being born and raised in Oklahoma, where tornados are as common as tequila in Mexico, a little bad weather wouldn't bother me. Truth be told, I hate storms. Nebraska has its fair share of storms and tornados, and while the weather changing on a dime is a fact of life here, storms still have the power to freak me out. I rode out a tornado-like storm with my mom a few months before she died and she lived in an apartment with no place to go. Scary place to be during a tornado. An apartment, with no place to go and your mom in a wheelchair.
Anyway, I got to the restaurant at the same time as one of the other girls and parking next to each other, we pointed at the clouds and simultaneously said, "WTF!" She said like me, she considered turning around and heading back home hide out.
Arms linked together, we walked into the restaurant giggling like school girls, and as the hostess asked us how many, I told her we were joining another party and if it was all the same to her, I would just follow the laughter to find them. Immediately around the corner and up a few stairs, we were met by three of them at a big square table, their faces nothing but smiles, and the warmth of friendship shining in their eyes.
We sat down amid hugs and congratulations to me for my upcoming grandchild, questions to our mover about when the movers were coming and when they were leaving, and what everyone has been doing since school got out. Once the sixth person of our little gathering arrived, it was game on. At this point, we really should have given the other diners around us a warning of some kind, along with 'ahead of time' apologies. There were 3 or 4 conversations floating around the table, and laughter was ringing out like a church bell on Sunday morning.
Since our table was right next to a bank of windows, once in a while, one of us would look out and make an off comment about the torrential downpour happening outside and how suddenly the streets were filled with rushing water, how the big ass trucks were barreling through the puddles, while the smaller cars were going at a snails pace. However, the storm that was raging outside didn't compare to the raucous party being held inside, because a few hours later, after countless pictures being taken, old stories being retold, new memories being made, our pasta bowls emptied, and our bladders floating away from all the iced tea we drank, the waitress was literally hustling us out of the restaurant because they needed our table. Where had the time gone?
With eyes watering and sides aching, we reluctantly paid our bills and walked out into the now misty, gray skies. There were no tears shed as we said our farewells to our friend. Just laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.
That's the thing about being older and having girlfriends; we're mature enough to not only to honor and value what we have with each other, but to appreciate the bond that we share with others who have, "been there, done that". We've all 'got the t'shirt' from one or all of the same clubs. We're there for each other; from support during the rough and awful times, to celebrating the happy, once-in-a-lifetime moments.
I can't believe I considered missing a few hours with these wonderful women in my life all because of a little storm.
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