If you would have told me 20 years ago that I’d still be best friends with the same two girls in my 30s, my response would have been, “Duh.”

Marissa and I didn’t really have a choice in the matter: Her family moved from Lafayette to Tomball shortly after mine did—circumstances that, once acquainted, bonded our parents for life. At four years old, she was my first best (female) friend. Kristen and I met when our brothers played on the same baseball team, sometime in elementary school. It took us a few years to all come together, but by the 7th grade, the three of us—well, four, if you count our token male Matthew—were inseparable. I can still remember the moment we made it official: The summer after we turned 13, during a late night swim in Marissa’s backyard pool, we pledged that we’d forever be the trio. And we were, all throughout the adolescent hunger games that is junior high and high school. It was the three of us against the world.

Then we left our small town and went off to college. Kristen and I roomed together at UT, and Mar was only a 2-hour drive away. For every birthday between us, we’d meet in Austin and celebrate with Sunday brunch at 1886 Cafe in The Driskill Hotel; this somehow became our reunion ritual. After graduating, we all moved back home to Houston, but our close proximity to one another didn’t last long.

Since starting families, seeing each other has inevitably become more complicated. Kristen lived in Germany for a three-year stint, and even though she’s back in the States, having babies in the mix makes traveling alone a luxury. But for the last two years, with the help of our husbands (and parents), we’ve committed to getting together annually: last year in Frisco, and this past June in Round Rock. We eat, we drink, we relax—but mostly, we talk. It’s amazing how many hours we can spend talking.

Marissa and Kristen know me better than anyone. They’ve been there for every milestone, every phase, every mistake, every heartbreak. They were the ones I rushed to tell when I started my period at 11 years old, who quite literally saved me from an eating disorder at 17, who stood by my side when I married my husband at 23, and the first people I texted when I found out I was pregnant with Jude at 28. There are no secrets between us, and the older we get, the more comfortable we are laying it all out there—the good, the bad, and the ugly. They’re not ride-or-die friends; honesty means even more to us than loyalty, and they (gently) tell me when I’m in the wrong. They’ve seen me at my worst, and they encourage me to be my best. Our personalities are distinct yet complementary, like puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, and our core values align in every way.

Sometimes I wonder where I would be, and how different my life would look, if Marissa and Kristen had never entered it. Would I have made the same choices, held tight to the same faith, or been the same person I am now? Would I have any idea what I was missing? I’m not sure. I am convinced, though, that the biggest influence in my life—other than maybe my immediate family—has been these two women. And if I could have only one prayer for my daughter, it would be this: that the Lord helps her find, early on, her own Marissa and Kristen.

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I wouldn’t end this sappy blog post without at least summarizing what we did, tried, and loved while catching up during our weekend in Marissa’s neck of the woods.

DOWNTOWN GEORGETOWN:

Lark & Owl Booksellers, the cutest little independent bookstore. I bought a Wednesday Addams mug that I love!
Bear’s Compounding Pharmacy, for browsing their collection of luxury skincare and jewelry.
Grape Creek On the Square, a wine tasting room with a convenient “order to-go” window. We got a couple glasses of dry rosé and popped a squat on a nearby bench to waste time before dinner.
Goodfolks, a locally-sourced scratch kitchen. We loved their burgers!

AUSTIN:

Lake Austin Spa, an all-inclusive spa resort. We spent 4 hours here on Saturday, complete with massages, pool time, and a veggie-forward lunch.
Olive & June, a romantic Italian restaurant with handmade pasta and a 200-year oak tree in the middle of it. If it weren’t for the rude waitress, this would have been a 10/10.