Visitors from Colorado

My friend Jessie and her son Griffin paid us a visit this week. Jessie and I met in Steamboat Springs, Colo., in 2001. I had just finished college, taken a job at the local paper and was determined to make my mark in newspapers. We were six months apart, but our goals, interests and personality couldn't have been further apart. I thought she was a jock; she thought I acted older than I was. But somehow we became the best of friends.



Friends like Jessie are few and far between. God knew how much I needed a sister like her when we bumped into each other along life's path. She taught me to not take myself so seriously, that spontaneity is a good thing and that it's OK to fail. She's seen me at my worst and my best and still calls me friend.

So here we are, seven years later, married and with children. Who would have thought we'd all be hanging out with George, Tom, Teddy and Abe, getting snowed in with our boys (a blizzard hit the morning after Jessie and Griffin flew in), swapping tips for washing Fuzzi Bunz and reaching for our Hooter Hiders?

Jess, if you're reading this: I'm so blessed to call you friend.