Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night...

It's 9:39 a.m. and dark as night outside my office window. Yesterday was a balmy 65 degrees and sunny; today is windy, dark, rainy, sleety, and cold.

It goes to figure; tonight is a Girls' Night.

Ahhh, Girls' Night. Girls' Night began years ago as an occasional get-together with my best friend, LilCherie, and maybe one or two other mutual friends, usually our former friend L. or our current friend H. Somewhere around the time I lost Hope, Girls' Nights became more frequent, and as my friendship with Tingle blossomed she became a part of the event whenever she was in town and often, by phone. In fact, LilCherie and I once took a trip to Tingle's place (well over 500 miles away) just to have a Girls' Weekend (thank you, Timmy!)

Anyway, Girls' Nights are now, in general, a weekly occurrence. Often they are just a casual get-together with LilCherie; sometimes they involve H. or others. This is a sacred night. There are certain rules we've established regarding Girls' Nights. One is that whoever is the visiting guest has no child responsibilities whatsoever. For instance, if LilCherie is staying at my house, and Bubba wakes up in the middle of the night, her role is to lie there and try to go back to sleep until one of us takes care of it, because it's her night off, and vice-versa when I visit her.

Basic requirements for the evening include coffee, snacks, journal entries or collages to share with one another, and that's pretty much it, but can include such luxuries as foot soaking, hot rocks, facials, and decadent treats like three-milk cake. And, of course, Oprah-bashing/adoration (LilCherie and I went halfsies on the Oprah 20th anniversary DVD box set specifically for this purpose). We usually begin the evening by making a trip to Walgreens for our supplies, perhaps getting some dinner somewhere, and then settling in for an evening of fun, laughter, sometimes tears, and always, the luxury of connecting with one another as adults and people and women in our own right--not mothers, not wives, not employees...just us.

Girls' Night has really gotten me through the darkest days of my life. It was at Girls' Night that I poured out my grief again and again over my little girl, my fears about my pregnancy with Bubba, my shattered illusions of motherhood and my postpartum depression, my concerns about my marriage and my depression and my anxiety and any other thing that was going on my life. It was at Girls' Night that I learned how to laugh again and, later, that it was okay.

I have driven through a blizzard to get to Girls' Night. LilCherie, Tingle and I have all traveled hundreds of miles for Girls' Night. H. has driven 45 minutes through deserted country roads at 3 a.m. to return home from Girls' Night. We have worked through colds, sinus infections, ear infections, throat infections and tonsillitis, surgeries, broken limbs and stitched fingers for Girls' Night, and let me tell you, we're pretty darn good at it. There is little that can stop us from our evening of adultitude. We've even been known to have a Girls' Night by phone in the rare instance that circumstances keep us apart.

So, as it thunders and storms outside my window, I worry and fret about the 35 minute drive tonight, hoping there's no snow, hoping there's no sleet...but knowing deep down that I'm going anyway.

That's just the Girls' Night way.