
Like the time you took me to the OB because my husband was deployed. And to the hospital when I was in pre-term labor.
Or the time you brought me dinner or cooked for me because I was so tired, sick, pregnant, stressed.
And the time we got lost because I refused to use the GPS.
And the many times we stayed up until midnight crafting and talking.
Or when we decided to cook two weeks worth of meals together to save time later on.
When I cried on your shoulder because I didn’t want you to move.
When you called in tears over deployment orders, again.
And when I needed to borrow a dress for the dining out, or a sweater for work.
For answering the phone no matter what time it is and coming over to help.
For understanding the random emotional outbursts.
For packing up my stuff when I was too distraught to do it.
For sharing your family time with my family.
For the open invitation to holiday meals.
And for so much more. I can’t even scratch the surface of the way you have opened your arms to me each and every time we move. We aren’t friends, we are family. I am so lucky to have you.
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