Sing and Be Happy

The past week has been a very emotional one for me. I have parted ways with two beloved friends, one who was my roommate for the past four years. Considering most celebrity marriages don't even last that long, it was quite hard to see a U-Haul drive off carrying years of memories with it.

The distraction of graduation and the chaos that surrounds it kept me an arm's length from a true emotional reaction. When I returned to the house on Sunday, however, I opened the door to find a giant space in my living room and kitchen. When I peered into the room that used to be hers, I only saw two mattresses against the wall. You can probably only imagine the cry fest that ensued. Luckily Justin (poor fellow) was there to pick me up out of the puddle of my own misery and assure me that everything was going to be okay. In between bursts of sobs, I let him know that a big chunk of my young adult life had wandered off without my consent; it was like a vapor that finally disappeared and left a gaping hole behind.

Before she moved back to Indiana, we had a karaoke party finale. Moving into the house, without any furniture to our name, we set up our karaoke system first. We invited friends to sing with us and we had a ball in this vacant house that would soon be ours. Singing "How Do I Live?" on Saturday, however, found itself to be bittersweet. How in fact do you say goodbye to the person who taught you how to change your oil, parallel park and not take yourself so seriously? Will driving around with my windows down singing country at the top of my lungs ever be as enjoyable again?

I realized that throwing yourself a pity party is always the easiest option, but that it is no way to live your life. Instead, like we did the other night, you should go out singing.

After all, I have so much to sing about.

Especially considering that sophomore year I cried to my mother claiming that I was never going to make any true friends in college; that they were all superficial and surface relationships. That is when God began to work in my life and paired me up with a very unlikely candidate.

She came from a very large family, mine was small and compact. She grew up doing hard labor, I grew up painting my toenails and writing in my diary. She knew how to change her alternator, I didn't know how to pump my own gas. We weren't friends-at-first sight. As she likes to remind me, I supposedly snubbed her during an attemped interaction freshmen year and on a sophomore mission trip my thoughts were consumed by the cute boys on the trip (that is probably accurate, unfortunately).

Yet God had a plan for us. He knew that I needed someone to guide me as I came into my own; and that she probably needed to find a passion for scarves and accessories, as well as learn to deal with girls who often cry for no good reason at all. The combination created a circus act that I wouldn't have traded for anything in the world.

Some call us sisters. Some claim we resemble an old married couple. Whichever is the case, we were a duo.

The duo may have been split by distance, but in our hearts, our friendship still remains as strong as ever.

Whenever I pick up a microphone, no matter how many years down the line, the dedication automatically goes to the girl in Indiana who understands that a karaoke machine is the only furniture you need.

And that singing is the avenue to happiness and the bond of a long-lasting friendship.

Love you Loramy Jane! Love you Ashley :) Thanks for all the memories!