Ellen my Melon

I met my best friend Ellen eight years ago. We both attended the summer program at the South Carolina Governor's School for the Arts and Humanities, and although the extent of our summer friendship was one tearful, two-sentence bus exchange, I think that was for the best; camp flings rarely stand the test of time. Instead we waited until the residential program's Welcome Reception in the fall, where we recognized each other and became best friends withinabout...three hours? Six graduations, one wedding, and several cities later, here we are - still bff and finally back within one day's drive.

Last Saturday, John and I met Ellen and her husband, Ryan, in Port Clinton, OH, which with the help of Google Maps, we selected as a dubious half-way point between Cleveland and Ann Arbor. Luckily, Port Clinton offered a fun Mexican restaurant, an ice cream shop, and a grocery store with a lighthouse in the parking lot.

Our night was important on many levels: Everyone got to hang with John, and John got to meet everyone; Ellen and I practiced the trip that we'll probably be making multiple times per month; and I had Pomegranate Dark Chocolate frozen yogurt.

When Ellen and I lived on the same hall, we went out for dinner on Thursday nights, ran through Reedy River Park in torrential downpours, sneaked to each other's rooms after curfew, discussed life's ups and downs face-to-face, and enthusiastically joined The Raid (flooding of the boys' side of the dorm) on the night before graduation. We've been chanting "SAME CITY" ever since, and I think this might be the closest we're going to get.

Our RA lovingly(?) nicknamed us The Bobbsey Twins, a term we love to hate. So now we're going to Bobbsey Ohio, Michigan, and everything in between: shopping, sleepovers, movies, dinners! Here's to us, Ellen - it's about damn time.