I realized yesterday, that my close friend and I are OLDER now than our mothers were during our first play date in 1987.
Back then, almost-30 meant no longer a kid.
It meant being a mother.
For quite a while the word "mom" never infiltrated our core group of friends unless we were talking about unflattering jeans, holding our pocket books while we danced, or haircuts with short wispy layers.
But at this very moment, one of us is making the trek into motherhood, one contraction at a time.
She is surrounded by family as she journeys into a world that will never look quite the same, a life of no longer being alone on the inside.
And as I picture her in pain, eyes welling with tears they way they did in kindergarten after falling on the playground, or years later when he wasn't quite enough, I wish I was there to tell her it's going to be alright.
Because it will.
However different it becomes in the process.