There are people in all of our pasts who have changed us, altered our beliefs or shifted our opinions and ideas about life and the world around us.
And even when those people are no longer the main characters of our story, it’s the things we learned from them and the lessons we took with us that we hold onto forever, carrying pieces of them into the next chapters of our lives.
It’s been three years since that section of my life came to a close, since the three of us said goodbye, let go of the security of each other’s hands and ventured out into a world of uncertainty.
Much more than just my college roommates, the three of us shared something beyond the four walls of that old house on Burton Street with the creaky wood floors and something far more lasting than the signatures we scribbled on a one-year lease.
And when it was time to move on, to find our places in the world solo, we took the strength, the courage and the bravery we had lent each other with us, each lesson in life, love and friendship etched in stone.
And even after several years, as the three of us recently found ourselves together once again to celebrate the marriage and the beginning of another chapter in one of our lives, we couldn’t help but feel grateful for the past we shared, the times we experienced together that shaped who we were now.
And while it was obvious that time had passed, that we had each moved in different directions, we came from the same address and still carried with us the pieces of each other that had led us, like a compass, to where we were now.
And as two of us stood by, clenching our bridesmaid bouquets as the remainder of our trio walked down the aisle, we realized that time or distance could not take those moments away from us, that somewhere in the background of each of our lives since then, were the faint creakings of a wood floor and the voices of three girls that shared something beyond the four walls of that old house on Burton Street.