So this weekend we (my adopted big sister Shalinie and my #1 BFF Iyesha) celebrated my little sister, Camille’s, birthday in Myrtle Beach, SC. She’s the only non 30 Something in the DiVa circle but I think it’s safe to say she is feeling the pressure of getting to that milestone and looks up to us for a bit of guidance. She also knows that there are no other women on this earth that have her back like we do. I’d never been to Myrtle Beach but I’m always up for a road trip with three of my most favorite people in the world. So we headed up I-20 in the rain and thunder among those semi drivers with no regard for human life in midsized vehicles. Good thing Camille has “this thing” about driving herself long distances. If it were up to me we would have stopped 4 hours short of our destination in Augusta and celebrated her 28th year at the Waffle House. Nonetheless, we tarried on, praying, laughing, and two of us (I’m not naming any names) sleeping through the storm. We even stopped a few times along the way as women do-just because. Passing judgment on the plethora of Bojangle chicken restaurants, country shops, and hand painted billboards exclaiming how much we now appreciated our Atlanta suburbs. Finally reaching our villa at the Sheraton Broadway Plantation Resort and running around like teenagers claiming beds and taking pictures of our home away from home.
We split up for only a second, as I refused to take the elevator with them to collect our things from the car. That’s my “thing”: and aversion to elevators. Only before we could all take two steps into the rain we were lashed by some left over Augusta lighting literally cracking on our heads and striking something in the parking lot for sure. I screamed like a punk, covered my head, turned and ran down to the hall to where they had gotten off the elevator and tried to walk out into the rain. All three of them had retreated back similarly, Shalinie in disbelief that the weather had gotten that bad in seconds, Camille reaching out for them to return in her natural mothering way, and Iyesha hitting the pavement because where she grew up that kind of cracked rattle came from gun shots. We all laughed grabbing each other by the elbows or hugging our chests gasping out a relieved “Jesus”. Eventually, the good Lord gave us a break in the mini Armageddon and we were able to get our things and even get out enjoying a night out on the town.
The next forty eight hours were sheer FUN. We laughed more, praised the sun, cooked for each other, shared our thoughts, smiled, and just enjoyed each other’s company. We walked around, shopped, ate some more, clicked our camera phones, tried on jewelry, and pointed out the things we knew were each other’s favorites. We disclosed the secret things going in our lives, our recent mistakes, our tentative goals, and the new things that either got on our nerves or that we didn’t give two snaps about. We gobbled down chocolate, Shalinie’s decadent vanilla bean cakes, and lavender tea over more than a few episodes of A&E’s Parking Wars. We fixed each other’s hair, shared loafs or Carolina bread, and cracked loving jokes on each other.
As little girls we were excited to say the very least to come together at anyone’s house and spend the night. We wanted to take our best clothes, our latest toys, and looked forward to staying up as late as possible just to prove we could do it Little has changed. It’s amazing to reflect on this weekend and how we are still the same little girls. We stayed up until 5:30am just to prove that we still could, as our thirties have demanded at least seven full hours of sleep to prevent the side effect of “ why is she being such a bitchiness”. The only difference with our grownup sleep overs is that we travel to trendy locations (Orlando, Las Vegas, the GA Mountains, etc.) have to have separate beds, we’re talking about the men we had/have vs. the boys we want, and our tasty treats have greatly evolved past Dorito’s and pizza to decadent truffles, exotic salads, and steaks. We still have dreams to share, lip gloss to try out, and opinions to examine. We still play with toys but they are kitchen gadgets, IPods, and a few unmentionables that power up with two or four double A batteries. We no longer play with dolls in exchange for brushing the $200 weaves we put on our own heads, the braids we practice in our natural coils, and the eyeliner that we buy from upscale boutiques for maximum sex appeal. We still play games, laugh at stupid stuff, and giggle at new words we find in girl guidebooks like frenulum (Google it).
I don’t think I will ever outgrow a good sleepover. I need the friendship of my sisters and besties. I relish the time away from the routine day to day and mostly I love acting like a little kid all over again. It’s a wonderful habit to maintain and I look forward to our many future sleepovers to come!
Salud… to the DiVas!
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