Every once in a while, certain people come into our lives and make a significant impact on us. One particular person I have been lucky to call a friend for over twenty- five years did just that for me in the sixth grade. As she turned forty this week, I reflected on our friendship, and had many laughs as I did so.

The more I write, the more I realize that I have been a natural observer my entire life. I am sure most writers could say the same. Someone once told me they asked the great novelist, John Grisham, how he comes ups with ideas for his novels. and his response was, “Easy. I just observe people.”

When talking with my eight-year-old son, he recently asked me if I could please write about the Great Flood. “Are you talking about the Nashville flood of 2010? You weren’t even born! Or the one from the Bible?” I asked as I folded what seemed to be the sixty-seventh load of laundry for the week. And it was only Tuesday

It was 2016, and I had just moved into my husband’s childhood home. We had recently sold our first house as we were considering expanding our family and needed more space. The problem was that even in 2016 in Nashville, Tennessee, there was nowhere to go once you sold, and bidding wars were becoming the new norm. So, there we were- my husband, my two-year old son, my in-laws, and myself all under one roof. Now, I consider myself pretty lucky as I actually like my in-laws. I know… call me crazy, but they are always there to lend a supportive ear and make sure my wine glass is filled to the top. It only got a little awkward when we found ourselves folding one another’s underwear.

It was fall of 2000, and after years of being mentally ready to fly the coop, I was finally getting my turn to attend college. A group of my friends from high school had applied for early move in, so we were getting a chance to beat the crowds and get our things situated before the mad rush of official Move-In Day. We packed our bags and hauled our things (with the help of our parents) two hours north of Jackson to Oxford, Mississippi, so we could start our fun filled college adventure at Ole Miss.

It was summer of 2009, and I had been invited to attend my now brother and sister-in-law’s wedding in Rosemary Beach, Florida. I would be going as the girlfriend of the brother of the groom, and I was thrilled. I loved a wedding, I loved a beach, and the families were fun, so it was an easy yes. Actually, I’m not so sure I didn’t just go ahead and invite myself.

With the New Year upon us, many are embarking on a wellness journey, enrolling in fitness classes and eating healthier to kick start ourselves into what society convinces us will be a “healthier you”. One of my favorite things to do is yoga- particularly hot yoga. I joke that I cannot stand to be without the dense humidity of the South for one minute, so I have to find it in all areas of my life. The truth is, I love the feeling of sweating out all the harsh toxins I absorb on the regular while stretching out my aging bones and muscles. For me, it works miracles, but to each his own.

It was 2002, and I was going to go on my first snow skiing trip to ring in the New Year of 2003 with my college boyfriend and friends. We were headed to Aspen, Colorado, for a weeklong stay with a local someone knew, and we were thrilled. However, I was going with avid skiers, and it being my first time, I would spend the first few days in ski school by myself. I didn’t mind and was simply excited to try something I had wanted to do my entire life.