We were in the neighborhood of some longtime friends last weekend.
So we did what friends do. We popped in.
The McKenneys — Mark and Maggie — were painting their den. As they put down their brushes, we caught up, later setting a date when we could visit in earnest.
Our bond is special because of its history.
More than two decades ago, the four of us shared a Lamaze class, strangers breathing in the uncertainty of becoming first-time parents. We introduced ourselves to the next stage of life.
Their Emma and our Jake were born a week apart.
Living in the same part of town, we became close, sharing baby tales, shooting home movies, pushing strollers. A commitment a few years later carried them to the East Coast, their original stomping grounds.
In the interim, we synched up again on child No. 2, with Johnny McKenney and Andrea Morgan arriving 11 days apart.
Their family has been back now for about nine years.
We each have a kid in college, as well as a high school senior. Twelve-year-old Luke, the last of the McKenney siblings, keeps us all young.
From a room pregnant with possibilities came a relationship built to last.
We are lucky people.