Comfy sweatpants

I write a lot about my tribe. I celebrate my tribe with my written word because I suck at doing it in real time with real words. I’d rather write a story about the smell of a hockey rink and how that reminds me of just how incredible my Dad is than to tell him when I leave him after a Sunday dinner “I love ya”. I love writing and thinking about maybe the person I am writing about reading them, or even a stranger reading my words and thinking about someone in their lives. I love my wife thinking I don’t have a heart and then reading a thousand words about a shamrock sticker my old baseball couch used to give out and how his coaching changed my life.

I love writing and getting lost in my words and remembering a friend from 1988 that has nothing to do with why I started writing in the first place.

Friendship is such a funny thing sometimes. I just got back from a quick golf trip with friends, some I have had since girls were still icky and gross. And, while we don’t see each other that often with lives pulling us in all sorts of different directions we laughed and hugged like we were 8 years old in the woods playing kick the can. And while I was there, I knew my youngest daughter was having a tough weekend, but I got a text from her saying her best friend was over hanging out. Her friend that is ALWAYS there for Kiley, and Kiley is ALWAYS there for her. They live a few towns apart, which stinks for them, but while their moms and dads probably sometimes hate having to drive 30 minutes early in the morning or late at night to drop off or pick up, they know each of them need each other. Whatever is going on in life, they have each other. Something this dad certainly appreciates. I love when our tribe grows.

My daughter Meghan has these great friends from high school. Hannah, Tess, and Henry. They were always together. Just a bunch of good humans, and Hannah. Tess and Henry, just really inspiring people, and there was Hannah, who I guess takes good pictures if I am forced to write something nice about her. They care about the right things, and they really care about each other. They don’t let each other get away with being bad people.  They make time, even if it’s a quick ride somewhere.  

They are comfort, they are home, they are peace for my Meghan. 

I remember a few weeks into her first year of college my Meghan holding back tears and saying, “I just want to be sweatpants comfortable.”  She went to college knowing not a soul. Leaving her door open, not really knowing her roommates at all and just having to always be “on” to impress or connect with any of the other kids there was hard for her. Some had roommates they already knew or ones that just instantly connected. My daughter didn’t have that experience right away.  She worked at it, harder than she has ever had to when making friends.  She wanted to find someone, anyone that was like her Tess, Henry and I guess Hannah.  She found her group, or they found her maybe.  However that actually works I’m not sure.  But her new friends helped her get out of her first dorm room and move in with them in a room next door. They are really wonderful kids, smart, driven, caring and fun. My Meghan lucked out finding them, but you know what, they got lucky too.  Of course, I’m a little bias…

As a dad you first want your kids to just have friends, be invited places, have things to do. You want them to be with all the cool kids, be a part of the big giant group and not be excluded. And then, as they grow you realize you just want them to be surrounded by friends who love them, challenge them, and put a smile on their face. It’s not the big nights out at a bar or a big college party or a Red Sox game with 15,000 thousand people that are the things you’ll remember. It’s the car ride to a Taylor Swift concert with your friend or a quick stop for coffee before work to see your friend. Or it’s the Sunday night facetimes you have with Tess, Henry, and I guess Hannah that kept you sane while you attempted to adjust to college that puts miles and miles on your friendship. Those conversations that mean nothing and everything all at once.

As a Dad I’m sure I don’t know all their stories. I’m not supposed to. I get to see what she wants me to see. I get to hear what she wants me to hear. I know I’m the corny dad who is invested in her life and whatever their interest happen to be at the time. I know when she is with her friends and she gets a text from me she probably says “Oh, my Dad is being so annoying” or “hahah, my dad is such an idiot” and she can laugh with her friends about whatever dumb thing I say when trying to act smart or woke or whatever the kids call it now. I love that when she is home she has a place to escape mom and dad. I think that is super important.

All I know is Tess, Henry, and I guess Hannah make my Meghan happy.  She isn’t ever pretending with them.  They make her confident, and smart, and loved, and maybe a few inches taller sometimes knowing she has them in her life. 

She is home when she is with them. 

She is sweatpants comfy…