My sweet friend Allyson came to visit! Allyson is from North Carolina. She believes in sweet tea, temperate winters and big hair, and attends my church back home which is how we met. She’s currently dating a man that lives in Pennsylvania [read: another part of the arctic north to which I have been exiled] and in the midst of visiting him, decided that she [WE] needed some girl time.
These men of ours are dreams-come-true, but let’s be real: you can’t take them to get a pedicure. I laughed out loud when Allyson mentioned that when Scott asked her what our plans were, she looked at him like he was a blithering idiot she’d just caught rummaging through the recyclables. “UM, we’re going to TALK.”
And that is why girls need girls.
Three hours and one, “The South is about to rise again!” text later, there were TWO fiery brunettes in New York disdainfully complaining about “these rude Yankee drivers!”
I adore Allyson, because she wholeheartedly loves Jesus and is trashy enough to day drink with me all at the same time, and thus 2:30 in the afternoon found us sitting on my couch with rum and coconut water, elatedly chattering away like we were in some sort of competition. I swear we didn’t take a breath for the first three hours! There was something about it that was like coming up for air. God created us for community, and I am going on month four of slowly, slowly beginning to build a new one here in Albany. There’s not a price tag in the world that you can stick on friends like that, and I’m not kidding when I say that I would return every single beautiful wedding gift that Kellan and I were given if I could just have an Allyson next door. Sitting on my couch with someone that GETS ME was a relaxing, calming elixir that I wanted to bottle and store forever.
We cooked while Frank Sinatra crooned in the background. We talked very seriously about how those shoes are an investment. We rented a chick flick and laughed so hysterically that Kellan became mildly concerned. We glanced at our yoga mats and ate THIS instead, passionately declaring HOLLANDAISE FOR PRESIDENT between each blissful, rather unladylike bite. We took our lives into our hands and went to get the cheapest pedicure in town [is anyone else scarred after watching Oprah’s deadliest pedicures? Anybody?], and allowed Asian men with thinly veiled anger issues to beat us within an inch of our sanity as we died laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all. [I kid you not, while my coral toes were drying, mine gave me a back massage that can only be described as some sort of medieval torture device.]
Allyson was a sweet reminder to me that Jesus gives us exactly what we need, exactly when we need it. Not a second early, or a second late. I think that’s part of why He told us not to worry about tomorrow—because we don’t yet have what we need for tomorrow. We won’t until we wake up. It’s a promise that I’m clinging to today, because tomorrow is July 12th.
And Ian would have been turning 22.