Today in church, I sat behind two little old women who reminded me vaguely of you and me. They looked extremely elegant in their pea coats and light white hair. Their makeup was done perfectly, colorfully complementing their skin. They whispered to each other at appropriate times during mass and quietly giggled to each other. They acted like they had been friends forever; like sisters that looked nothing alike, except for their mutual smiles and the twinkle in their eyes. They laughed at the same things, and seemed to be able to read each other's minds. When they turned around and I wished them peace, I looked at them, quietly thinking of you, hoping that that would be us in 70 years. I hope that we still know each other in 70 years as we do now. I hope that we can still laugh and go to church together and be as close we were sophomore year.
Seeing them made me miss you. I miss talking to you everyday and going to church with you after volleyball. I miss us being able to read each other's minds. I miss talking to you about anything and everything and going to your house for a sleepover or downtown to eat crepes. I miss you.
I want us to be the little old ladies who go to church together with smiles on our faces and twinkles in our eyes.