Yesterday was the last day of school before the five-day Spring Break; and our 8th-grader, Ivy, invited her friends to come for a bonfire.  What constitutes a bonfire for our small-town kids is a wood fire — contained to an above-ground metal fire pit — that burns high enough to be exciting and then dies down to embers suitable for marshmallow toasting.

After a long, snowy winter and heavy Spring rains, the ground absorbed the puddles just in time for the first fire of the season.

There is something magical about a fire — especially one that takes place under the full moon — and we realized as we facilitated the first one of the season that we would be setting the stage for many others before Fall turns again to winter.

The five girls who gathered have been a part of Buddy Day, a weekly ritual celebrated every Wednesday after school, for three years now.  I think of how different things are now than they were when the sixth-graders first gathered to celebrate their friendship.  The little girls who giggled and skipped are now young teenagers.  They still giggle and skip sometimes; but now when they gather for a bonfire, seven young men show up.  The giggling and skipping stops for a bit as the boys take center stage and perform to impress the girls.  I smile as my mind sees the parallels with the colorful male birds who choose the highest perch at this time of year and display their feathers and their singing ability for potential mates.

I watch them watch each other and realize how quickly childhood is slipping away and how soon it will be replaced by another generation of adults.  My peek into the future is interrupted as one of the girls shouts, “Let’s play Duck, Duck, Goose!”  All the pseudo-adults drop their pretense at courting and sit together in a circle, talking and laughing and enjoying the drama of one of the boys sliding to the ground as he taps a friend and hollers, “chicken!”

The fire dies, the boys go home, and the girls pull out the marshmallows.  They add chocolate and graham crackers and sit quietly by the fire, talking and enjoying the sweetness of being Buddies and sharing dessert.  I think about my own circle of women and our friendship.  I think of the times when we gather with the men and of the times when we gather without them.  It is in that moment that I realize I’m watching a circle of girls becoming a circle of women.  How different they become when the boys go home.  They share their hearts — the confusion, the joy, the sadness, of being fourteen.  They listen to each other.  They respond with compassion and offer advice.  There is such beauty in watching their femininity in action!  It’s something we do as women.  We recognize the beauty — first in others, and later in ourselves.

We take the time to notice that beauty — not just in passing, but in a way that nurtures it and commits it to memory.  We are the keepers of the beauty; and I fill with emotion as I watch these young girls enjoy the beauty of their friendship.

The fire dies, and the party moves inside.  It’s a sleepover, which means we old folks fall asleep to the sound of laughter, music, and reminiscence.  The girls have found a stack of old yearbooks, and the room is filled with shrieks and giggles as they visit their childhood once again and tell the stories that accompany the pictures of years gone by.  They are building memories, a collection of stories that will become their common history.

It’s another thing we do as women.  Men may report history, but it is the women who hold the memories.  We see the beauty in each moment, and then we press it between the pages of our hearts.  Tonight will be another memory, and I have no doubt that they will talk and laugh about it in years to come.

As I celebrate the wonder of my own friendships with women, it is particularly sweet to see another generation laying the groundwork for these special bonds.  Take the time today to celebrate your own circle of friends — chocolate and marshmallows are optional — either way, you will find that it is sweet!