“NOT 1 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MESSAGE [sic]” — Text Message from Emma Kretchmer (Kretchie Boo), Thursday, February 18, 5:25 PM
Well, alright then. I guess this doesn’t count.
Emma and I actually met during a horribly illegal (and I’m sure somewhat offensive) production of West Side Story, but our paths really didn’t cross seriously until the next year at Roeper Summer Stock Theatre Camp. Since then we’ve been in The Drowsy Chaperone, Little Shop of Horrors, and Legally Blonde. Honestly, I’m probably forgetting one. These were more than just shows for us, they were family time. They were our solace. Bless that time.
Emma instantly became a close member of my friend-family. She and I have been to Noodles & Co. more than is most likely healthy, traversed throughout every section of Barnes & Noble, and even counted change in order to purchase a Build-a-Bear at an age far past appropriate to be doing so. She exudes energy and love for the world and her life. She is compassionate, open, and understanding. She stands her ground when she believes in something.
Maybe my favorite aspect of my relationship with Emma is how casual it is. We could go weeks or even months without speaking and pick up immediately right where we left off. Emma and I have actually done the “get your nails done and talk about boys” thing. Even better, it’s helped me make some pretty serious decisions about who I am and who I want to be. I love that. I love us.
Emma is one-of-a-kind. There is absolutely no way to replace her. She is beyond unique in both her maturity and her ability for inspiring fun and laughter, and I don’t think I would even remotely be the same person without her.
Emma and Meredith, they’re my home. They’re my family. I am so lucky to have them both.
So, Emma, happy birthday. I love you.
Are you happy now?
P.S. Enjoy this horrible photo of us from an iChat on May 26th, 2012. Times have changed, thank God.