In the summer of ‘76, my dad began training for fall cross country tryouts. Growing up in sunny California, he and his friends often fit a dip in his teammate’s backyard pool into their afternoon run. A necessary measure, really, kicking off their retro Nike swooshes and jumping the fence. As time went on, and the boys aged into adults, my dad met my mom. The two moved across the country on a whim, leaving California, headed to a little college town called Chapel Hill. They only knew one soul in town, and his name was Kirk Owen, the teammate whose notorious backyard pool had served as the hangout spot of my dad’s teenage years. Kirk was only there for about a week, finishing up his graduate degree at Duke University and headed for Charlotte, but he would be back.
By 1996, my dad and Kirk were both living in Chapel Hill, married, and ready to start their own families. My brother Sam came first, in July of 1998. Five months later, the first Owen child was born, a boy named Will. The two families of three did everything together. In late 1999, my mom and Sarah (Kirk’s wife) were sitting in the pew of University Presbyterian Church (UPC) together, with their little ones in tow. During the service, Sarah leaned over to my mom and whispered:
“Lyn, I’m pregnant.”
My mom took one look at her, smiled and whispered back, “Me too.”
Caroline Cole Owen, or as we say, CC, was born on Sunday, April 9th, 2000. Four Sundays later, she was at my house, all swaddled up and waiting for my return from the hospital on May 7th. It was the first day of my life, and she was right there. She hasn’t left my side since. From that day on, Sam, Will, CC and I became unofficial siblings, or as me and CC like to say, the Bowens (Billings+Owens).
When I say she and I did everything together, I mean it. Preschool, k-12, church choir, volleyball, softball, Super-Bowl Sundays, Easter Egg hunts, family vacations, Christmas dinner – everything. Well except one thing, CC missed my 3rd birthday party. She was all dressed and ready to head out to Mapleview Farm to celebrate, when she fell down the stairs. Her little body tumbled, and an x-ray landed her in a neon green, elbow-high cast. I remember sobbing when my mom broke the news to me. I can still see the cars driving past Mapleview one by one, each time I thought maybe, just maybe, it would be her. At just three years old, I could already tell it didn’t feel right not having her by my side.
For as long as I can remember, CC has always been THAT girl (I mean, she was voted both Prom Queen and Class Clown during our senior year, who does that...) The life of the party, the girl that you want by your side, the one nobody forgets. It's always been a bragging right to call her my best friend. She’s that girl for a lot of reasons, but mainly because she is unapologetically herself. CC will forever and always be the funniest person in the room. It never matters the setting, make it the dance floor, volleyball court, dinner table, you name it – the crowd is always centered around her, and rightfully so. Her humor comes from the fact that she’s a little rough around the edges. She’s loud and blunt and always down for a good time. She takes lemons, squeezes them hard, and makes a big old pitcher of lemonade out of any situation, even the hardest ones. She doesn’t sugar coat things and isn’t overly sweet, it’s just in her nature to grab life by the reins and make the most of it.
When I think of CC, it’s impossible not to think of Ocean Isle Beach. We spent our summers at her mom’s house, a perfect little beach cottage that’s been in the family for decades, riding bikes down to Sheffield’s Gas Station to spend our allowance on a can of Cheerwine and as many Ring Pops as we could afford. I remember being around 8 years old, sitting out on the beach on a particularly rough, windy day. CC was incredibly sunburnt (as per usual) and covered in freckles, rocking a swim shirt per her mom’s request. I watched from the sand as her and my mom, another all-in kind of person, ran into the roaring ocean. They got thrashed repeatedly by the waves, and every time CC would come up for air, she would break the water with a big toothy smile, just laughing it off. I sat with CC’s mom, probably asking if I could read her People magazine, and staring in awe at my brave, crazy, one of a kind best friend.
As we grew, CC traded tackling waves for even bigger challenges, the most recent being signing with the Chicago Bulls as a data analyst for her first job post-grad. I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when she called to tell me the news that she landed her dream position. If she wants something, she makes it happen, and I knew they would be just as wowed by her as I have always been. We have spent the last four years apart, her at Virginia Tech and me at UNC, and with her move to Chicago, we will now be the farthest apart we have ever been. Saying goodbye to her the summer before freshman year was one of the scariest things I have ever done, I had no reference for a life without her right next to me. But four years have now flown by, and still nothing has changed. Whether she knows it or not, CC has finished almost every phone call with “Love ya, kid” for the past four years. Hearing those three words has grounded me more times than I can count during college, bringing me right back to the dock of Sheffield's, her Honda CRV, the pews of UPC, the halls of high school, our sandy preschool playground, and so much more. She is the sister I was born with, just not by blood, and despite being just 4 weeks older than me, the person I look up to the most. So, cheers to you CC, to our shared family and all the adventures that come with it, I love ya, kid.
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