They aren’t MY friends. I’m an outsider to this unique group of four who call Michigan home. I didn’t forge a relationship with them at their camp, in their beloved upper peninsula. I met them sipping cocktails in a corner booth, supporting our friend, their fifth and my only connection, the beautiful bride to be.
I’d heard plenty about them from Linda’s stories both written and spoken, and the pictures she painted of love, affection and edification couldn’t have been more accurate.
Then somehow when I wasn’t paying attention, somewhere between the cocktails and the vows, they welcomed me in.
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