A weekend walk down memory lane.

"The friends who grew up with you deserve a special respect-- the ones who stuck by you shoulder to shoulder, in a time when nothing was certain, all life lay ahead, and every road led home." -the wonder years

And speaking of home, here is my childhood home...I couldn't resist snapping a stalkerish picture out of my car window while across the street at my childhood best friend's home. Later that day, my best friend's mom walked me across the street so I could awkwardly explain to the new (well, not so new anymore) owners that I used to live there. I was secretly hoping for an indoor tour of the house, but all I got was a peak at the backyard.

Yes, I spent part of this weekend in my hometown. It's funny-- whenever I hear the word "hometown", what comes to mind is a small town with a Main Street that runs through a quaint downtown area. My hometown, though, is nothing like this picture in my mind. Instead, my hometown should bring to mind mental images of the White House, the Pentagon, the Capitol-- and all of the hecticness that goes along with big city life.

My aforementioned childhood best friend--who grew up across the street from me and was practically my Siamese twin for over a decade-- is geting married in December, and I came home for her bridal shower and bachelorette party. Returning home is always a bit nostalgic for me. As I headed north on I-95,  my mind was flooded with memories of summer nights playing flashlight tag, neighborhood camping trips, and 4th of July barbeques. And then, as the city lights grew closer, the tail lights on every car in front of me started to glow and my nostalgia gave way to irritation as I was reminded of one of the reasons why we booked it out of Northern Virginia right after graduating from college: the insane traffic that is ever-present regardless of the time of day or night.

And still, spending hours stuck in gridlocked traffic was completely worth it when I arrived and saw these faces that were a daily part of my past.

 Meet Nadia, left, who once crawled across our 9th grade English classroom on her hands and knees while the teacher was lecturing for no other reason than I convinced her it would be funny (thankfully, we've both matured since then). And Kristin, right, my former Siamese twin. We'd meet in front of our houses on the way to the bus stop each morning. Kristin would pinch-roll my jeans for me and I would fix her ponytail, which was always sideways, even when she wasn't going for that look.

And here are the bridesmaids, who I'm absolutely convinced would be some of my best friends if not for the hundreds of miles separating us. Kristin knows how to pick friends (obviously...ha).

Bachelorette party with Nadia. A big shout out to my sister-in-law, for serving as my stylist that weekend. I lost all knowledge of what's in fashion circa 2009 (aka: the year I became a Mommy). An added bonus? The sister-in-law is the same size as me, so I could borrow instead of buy. Yay for frugality.

What I love most about these girls is that we only see each other once every couple of years and yet it's like we've never missed a beat when we are finally reuinted.

And one final shout out goes to another one of my oldest besties who let me crash at her adorable little condo that weekend. Danielle (and her boyfriend) hauled my butt through the traffic of Chinatown to get to the above-pictured bachelorette party. And when the side streets of DC were blocked off due to a march that was happening that weekend, her boyfriend parked the car and escorted me by (bare)foot 3 blocks to the party site. I owe them both big time.

I didn't stay out late for the bachelorette festivities that night, not only because I'm old and can't hang like I used to, but because I was heading a few hours south the next morning to the celebration of my grandfather's life. I call it that because that's truly what it was. My grandfather was not a very formal guy (and that's a drastic understatement) and we didn't feel like a traditional funeral would be indicative of the type of man he was. Instead, we rented out a room at the club he always golfed at and invited his family and friends to come eat, talk, and look at lots of old pictures of the man we loved throughout the years. Resting next to the picture display, you could find my grandfather's golf clubs with his favorite hat perched on top of them. It was a good day, filled with a lot of stories, laughter, and a few tears. I was amazed by the turnout; there were many people we had never even seen before that showed up and introduced themselves as Grandpa's golfing buddies or friends from elementary school! He was a very loved man, and I think that day was the perfect tribute to his memory.