Today we had a graduation party for the little angel and her posse from The Emerald City. I had to check the archives from 2006 to make sure I had that right.

I can close my eyes and see them in a McDonald’s playplace at a second birthday party. At a Christmas celebration. At the playground. Dragging sleds up a hill. Giggling at the zoo. Cheering at a Royals game. Christmas. Sledding. Birthday party. Friendsgiving. Barbecue. Zoo. Apple orchard. Halloween. Friendsgiving. Christmas.

Elementary.

Middle school.

High school.

Births.
Deaths.
Marriages.

Divorces.
Cancer.
Jobs won.
Hospital visits.

Cancer.
Jobs lost.

Birthdays.
Friendsgiving.

Christmas.

And suddenly, a beautiful spring day.
Seven young adults.
Seven families.
Eighteen years.

We made each other family, because we had to. Because we had no one else in town. Because we needed someone to call to pick up a kid, to help plan a funeral, to move into a new house.

Today, watching the kids laugh with each other, standing with my dear friends, I wished I could tell new mom Rita about today.

Hey, girl. The kids’ll be alright.