The four blonde girls. The ones that all looked alike, drank too much coffee, dressed nice, and were always together. The goody-goods who always seemed to follow the rules. The ones who laughed unnecessarily loudly everywhere they went. I suppose these would be the most common labels we received in high school. But labels never really mattered to us four.
It was a friendship that was rare, especially among high school girls. From the very beginning, we cared about each other on a deeper level. Like family. We cared about the things that mattered. We all understood the world in the same way. I'm positive it was fated.
We never got caught up in trivial things. Drama simply wasn't our style. We all knew what was meant for each one of us: so much more. Something so big and spectacular we couldn't comprehend it quite yet in our tidy, suburban town. When things got tough, we always reminded each other of that.
We picked up each other's messes as if they were our own. Picked up the broken pieces and offered the best shoulders for crying. We knew there was nothing that couldn't be fixed with a little iced coffee and a hug. We loved one another as much as we loved our own selves.
The night before we were separated for college, we watched an endless stream of photos and videos on the couch with tear-filled eyes and laughter. The best moments of us. We all put four rings on our left pinky, one to represent each of us. And we promised: a letter a month, no matter what. We would send the letters in rotation between the four of us, so that each time a page would be added on. A packet of memories. Of how we were connected even in our time apart. We hugged for the last time, and I wondered how I would never get through nine months without them.
But somehow I have. Nine months and a big letter packet later, and we are still us. Maybe even more so.
We got home and realized there wasn't a thing out of place. Realized this friendship isn't something you find twice in your lifetime. We're still the four blonde girls. We always will be.