Ihave two best friends, Amy and Jill. We met in middle school at age 11, when our heads were filled with ballet lessons, nail polish, and pop music. Through the awkward teen years, and even when college put us at long distances, we three stuck together. Before e-mail and texting, we called and visited. Every Friday night was booked with pizza, wine, and girlfriends.
But once “real life”—work, graduate school, marriage, new homes, and children—happened in our late 20s and early 30s, finding time for each other became difficult. We could no longer meet every week for dinner, and it didn’t help that I moved 100 miles north, Amy headed 30 miles south, and Jill went 40 miles west. So we started a tradition of meeting in the middle for…