There are very few people in this world who know me better than Lindsey and Meghan. Growing up, my mom called them her weekend daughters. We traded Best Friends necklaces, Be Fri and St Ends. I've known the both of them since elementary school. They knew me when I was about 2500 freckles less, with gapped teeth and a one-speed bike. They know how to push my buttons and they know how to make me giggle like I'm 12 again. We can not talk for 6 months, then call each other when we know that only the other would understand what we have to say. These women know things about me that I wouldn't even write in a diary. They are my secret-keepers, my shoulders, my past, my childhood, my teenage angst, my weekend sisters, my forever friends.
I went to Charleston this weekend to be reminded of the wonderfulness of my timeless friends. We went to lunch and parties with other people and I'm sure we just annoyed them as we reminisced and giggled about things no one else knows.