The Lad and I recently visited Katy at Farm Camp.
I still remember the day I met Katy. I was four and she was five. She was sitting on a bench at recess and she had hair down to her waist. I — kept in enforced moppet-cuts by the Moms, who refused to deal with the tangles that ensued otherwise — was pretty sure my life would be complete if I had hair to my waist. I sat down next to her and started telling riddles.
Twenty-two years passed. Our friendship is now old enough to legally drink at bars, then drive itself to the polling place and vote for president. In two more years our friendship will be able to rent a car without paying extra fees.
The proper gift for a 21st anniversary is nickel; I’d say that’s about what your ring is worth. Happy anniversary, Vigilante. Here’s to twenty-two more years.