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This week, one of my dearest friends, Frost, is gettin’ hitched. Frost lives out of state, and due to my health condition/restrictions, I am unable to attend the wedding. I was bummed before, but with the week looming large, I am getting sadder at the thought of missing out on sharing a big celebration with an old friend.

I’m beyond thrilled that Frost is entering into this new phase of his life. For myself, getting married was something I always longed for, and now that I am married, it’s hard and painful to remember what it was like most of the time before I was a “we,” back when I was just a “she.” Of course, I am still the same person…but I’m also altered, like an element exposed to extreme temperature. Some of it is marriage, the rest just that people change (hopefully, they evolve) with every year.

I’m hoping that some point over the course of the week, or possibly the following week, that I will receive a video from a friend of a glimpse of Frost’s special day, a few moments where I get to see through the magic of technology the magic of love. For love of my friend, and because I love bearing witness to the power of love.

Confession: This takes me back to age 12. If gently nudged, I could probably post a slew of girly, embarrassing memories that could prove to be more interesting than this post. Who’s to say?? If you challenge me, I may give in. 

But if I had to, a voicemail from Frost himself would do.

You see, Frost holds a special place in my heart for voicemails. Wifey can send me the best laugh-out-loud texts that send me into delightful belly aches.

About 7 years ago, Frost graduated from college and we resumed some of the friendship we had shared from our high school years. We used to spend hours at a local pizza joint pouring out stories from our childhood while we readied ourselves for our weekly bowling club meetings.

But we weren’t quite as close as we’d been before. I was beginning to experience the next levels of love pangs and an end of university/start of real-world breakdown. Some dark days in a new-to-adulthood kind of shit was hitting me for the first time. My high school pal couldn’t wallow with me the way I needed, and although we had some fond memories, there are points in your life when you need a breather but not a severance.

A year later, I was married, Frost was in grad school, and we were living several states away. But we still talked, even if I was horrible at initiating this. Despite his harrowing ongoing education, Frost kept in contact with the added weight of a health condition that arose while he was away. Even when our worlds felt very dissimilar, I could still count on quarterly chats from him that lasted an hour or more. I looked forward to our conversations, and his calls relieved the ache of lonliness being so far away from home. Occasionally, a “how’s it going” email would pop up. I went to visit him in the mountains, and he came to Central Time to see me.

When my husband and I got married and moved, some of our friends drew together in solidarity and strength during our absence. Parker noted that the friends who banded together to form new friendships are the ones that lasted. Since Til didn’t hang out with us before Parker and I got married, he was stunned to hear tales from a few of Frost’s parties. His house was the natural solution to the question, “But where should we gather?” and I imagine in the next few years with Frost’s tying the knot, it will be the answer again.

Not only is Frost a caring soul with a pursuit of knowledge and responsible for one of the best running commentaries against a basketball game, but he leaves his mark on the world. He had some extremely memorable parties that I was reminded of not but a few days prior.

At one of his birthday parties, Wifey (my old roommate, to be clear) was out of town on a camping trip. Ever the vigilant friend who always liked his friends to know he was thinking of them, he left her a handful of voicemails over the course of the night to regale her with our antics and lightly chastise her for her lack of physical presence at the momentous occasion. They got more and more hilarious as the night went on.



Several times over the summer, Frost would leave me (and no doubt, my friends have their own experiences of this) recorded calls wherein he stated that he missed me. Once, I got one that said only said, “Jen, What the f—” only to be interrupted by the Recorded Polite Woman stating “END OF MESSAGE!” I’ve received a lot of voicemails in my life, but that is in my top 10, and one of the only ones I can recall by heart (I should add that several belong to my husband since sometimes he calls and sings sweetly into my voicemail box, just because).

So dearest Frost, I wish you well on your upcoming nuptials. May you cherish each other, grow together, and have everlasting happiness. And don’t forget to leave me a voicemail.