Some things are irreplaceable. Such as Togan.
We met on the first day of Grade 5. I moved to a new school, I dressed carefully, my plum corduroy capris (okay, I think they were actually knickers,) and my mauve polo sweater, which I proudly received as a gift from grandmother.
It was the wrong outfit. My preppy try-hard did not jive with the dark denim, try-hard tough look for the school. I still, perfectly remember how scared and mortified I felt. How badly I wanted a friend.
It could have gone really poorly. Thankfully though some people looked passed the major first day at a new school outfit mishap and decided that I could be an acceptable friend. Thank you, Togan
Since then, through the same high school, different groups of friends, different high schools, different countries actually, and very different lives, she is still my “best friend from Grade 5.”
We get together, not often enough, and we can pick up right where we left off. I am as comfortable in her house as I was after years of going to her childhood home to make tortillas with butter every day after school (mom, that is what I ate almost every day after school for two years.)
Last week, I hoped a plane to Ashland and spent three child free days with Togan. It was so relaxing and fulfilling that it felt like a week.
Ashland is an idyllic city where every delicious, affordable restaurant seems to have exposed brick walls and retro chandeliers. It is where I have now had the best coffee ever, it is where my friend Togan bought cupcakes and ate the bottom so my wheat free self could savour the sweetest butter-cream icing that has ever crossed my lips. It was my first trip to Ashland and I would go again next week if I could.
I can’t end this post without telling you it took me an unexpected19 flippin’ hours get to Ashland, by plane people – not driving.
Luck with travel itineraries is something I don’t have. Luck with friends though, I certainly do.
Here is the first post of some Togan photos, she looks to-me the same as she did when we met, without though, the rugby pants we misguidedly wore almost everyday.