Sarah is getting married. Yes, yes: this is not “news” in the sense of it being new. I’ve known for months. But I’m all weepy about it now because I realize that Sarah is going to be a “wife” soon…

I met Sarah when I was 2 years old. Two! We went to the same Montessori school and, it’s safe to say, we hated each other at first site. Being so young, I can’t quite remember how we started to be friends after the dislike at first sight, but we did.

We were total opposites: I was this adventurous little firecracker, and she was already ladylike and reserved. I’d play in mud puddles and jump from the top of the jungle gym, she’d watch and then get grossed out by the mud and blood all over me. When I went to her house, we’d have stair jumping contests. This is to say that I would fly down the staircase from the 10th stair and Sarah would jump from the 2nd. Her mother clapped equally loud for us both.

We are both only children, and so we were each other’s sister. Until we were six (I think), we lived within walking distance of each other (although we didn’t walk because we were about 3-foot-nothing and there were way too many cars). She moved then, but was still only about 20 minutes from me. But she is the closest thing I have ever had to a sister. We were partners in crime. We dreamed of fairs (an idea 100% inspired by her possession of a roll of “Admit One” tickets), created villages of Peanut People (which she found, rotted, some years later), and invented a gray-hair remover (it was water) which our mothers pretended would work.

As we got older, we supported each other and counseled each other. We had “insult war practice” where we would hurl horrible insults at each other to prepare ourselves for the horrors of middle school. We talked about kissing (”Ewwww! I will NEVER let a boy put his tongue in my mouth!”), and dating, and future dreams. We both wanted to be teachers (she is, I’m not… well, not yet), but thought they didn’t get enough respect. When I came home from Costa Rica with my heart in two pieces, Sarah helped me piece it back together. When she wanted advice about her first boyfriend, I gave it to her. We had aspirations of attending Duke together (she did, I didn’t). We dreamed of one day sitting in matching rockers on the front porch of our nursing home…

Now, being that we were like sisters, we also fought like crazy and had “sibling” rivalry. She had a She-ra, Princess of Power doll (the thought of that doll still makes me want to cry) that she didn’t even LIKE, and yet she wouldn’t let me have her (consequently, my mother spent MONTHS scouring every toy store in the Delaware Valley for that doll!). I had a Strawberry Shortcake village that she loved and I couldn’t give a crap about. She wasn’t allowed to have it, though. In fact, I would haul it out of my closet and set it all up for her to see, then I’d tell her I didn’t want to play with it. We constantly had the public school (me)-private school (her) debate. And when I say debate, I mean screaming and crying matches. I think that EVERY SINGLE TIME that we had a sleepover, we’d either want to go home (if we were at the other’s house) or we’d be ordering that the other went home (if she was at our house). Like sisters though, we loved each other, and so all was easily forgiven.

So now, Sarah and I are approaching our 21st Anniversary. I can literally say that we have known each for as long as the brain can remember. She knows more about me than any individual on the planet, and I think I can probably say the same about my knowledge of her. What I didn’t tell my parents, she knew. What I didn’t tell my LM friends (friends from my school district), she knew. She knew it all.

When we went to different colleges, we obviously didn’t see each other as often. But our bond remained strong and we always had the ability to pick up the phone and pick up where we had left off. And I love this girl so, so much. I’m not sure if I’m ready for her to turn into a woman and get married. I’m feeling so nostalgic. This is Sarah… little Sarah with the chicken legs and the pretty dresses.

Speaking of pretty dresses, we’ve come to the reason for this entry. Sarah sent me a photo of a potential wedding dress. Now, I’d heard about said dress, but had not seen it. There it was, sitting in my inbox. Was I excited? Yes, absolutely! But when I opened it up and looked at my best friend — a woman, not a little girl — it hit me. We’re not playing dress-up anymore. I’m so proud of the gorgeous woman in the picture. Sarah is getting married. She’s going to buy a house and make babies with someone. And that someone is Max. And Max is the perfect man for Sarah. And so I’m very happy for them both.

But I guess I haven’t quite reached grown-up status because I’m fighting the urge to hurl myself onto the floor and throw the mother of all temper tantrums. Because I’m just not ready to let Sarah grow up. (Thank God she’s given me until June 2006!) Anyway, I’m just going to have to chalk this up to my my quarter-life crisis.