It's the longest day of the year, the orange moon hovering on the horizon and Ben Folds rocking the suburbs. It's early morning, 1am; she sleeps beside me, her hand on my shoulder, he sleeps in the backseat. I am driving.

I confess I cried for more than an hour after getting in the car. I confess I was still wiping tears from my eyes four hours later while they slept. We drive north, to her apartment, and drive more north in the morning. Virginia is far away from home. I feel that acutely.

He squeezed my shoulders and kissed my cheek, "Anytime." he said. "You know that right? Anytime. Our home is your home." I nod my head against his shirt. She says the same when I hug her next, she always does. I am glad for their home, their home gave us Laura and now Laura is married to Tony. We take partial responsibility for that marriage.

I say to a dear one before we make the rounds, saying goodbye, "I used to think that home, Potsdam, was superior, but I've been humbled. It isn't superior, it's just other."

She says to me, before she falls asleep with her hand on my shoulder, "I like that you're crying, that this is hard. It because you love people and I don't know anyone else who loves them like you do." But it's the loving that hurts. Really.

Because we scattered last summer, all of us to different directions and purposes. And I didn't think it would hurt. I knew it would be hard. But hurt? We are grown up, we all. Grown-ups realize that growing up means we make sacrifices and changes. We realize that, we do. But growing up, I am realizing, still surprises me. I am 27 this year, closer to 30 than 18, but I still always feel 18. I still feel like we set our course and it ought to feel like a joy-ride.

But it's not always.

So many times in the past few days I stare at the people around me and am quiet in my heart. I am thankful, so deeply thankful, and I say it. Probably too many times. But I mean it every time. I am thankful.

And I don't understand, honestly, why we're scattered in so many different states. And I don't understand, honestly, why none of us have really found what we had together there. And I don't understand, really, why I never appreciated it as much as I do now. I somehow thought I would escape "the friends you make in college are the friends you have forever" cliche; after all, I was older, I already had a few good friends.

But I didn't escape it.

And as I watched her walk down the aisle and him choke back tears. As he enveloped me in a bear hug and as I caught her glance from across the table. As we laughed and cried and praised and our souls felt rest. As we three joined our voices, singing as they lit the unity candle. As I met two kindred spirits and wished for more time to talk. As he grabbed my hand last night and squeezed. As I lay on her bed, praying out her last night as a single woman and as I joked with a new friend about artists and musicians. As she rubbed the tension from my shoulders and as I smiled the tension from his eyes. As we all converged in three hotel rooms and played the hand game around a pedestal table. As we witnessed the engagement of two of us, a proposal that intentionally included the makeshift family. As I wept in front of each of them, unashamed of my deep love for them all, and as I said "I love you."

As I did all of this, I am thankful that I didn't escape it.

Because, if one is to have friends forever, these are the ones I want.