Holidays are homecoming time for many people, and I was happy to have my 24-year-old daughter, Rachel, visit during December. When she comes, she always connects with her friends from childhood. I'd like to share her thoughts on that experience.

Like many other young adults making their way in the world, I returned to my hometown over the holidays last month. Coming home means spending time with family, revisiting familiar places, taking stock of changes and seeing old friends. I meet up with friends from college and from the rock climbing gym where I used to be a member, but my most treasured reunions are with a group of girls I've known for most of my life.

The five of us all grew up in this area and attended school together all the way from Bollman Bridge Elementary through Hammond High. They are characters in some of my earliest memories of preschool and kindergarten. Photo albums show us growing up side by side: splashing in mud puddles, showing off shimmery princess Halloween costumes and dashing around Savage Park looking for hidden candy at the annual Easter Egg Hunt. We crashed each other's family vacations, went to Girl Scout meetings at our leader's house in Jessup and traded neighborhood babysitting gigs.

From the magic of childhood through the growing pains of adolescence, we managed to stay friends, consulting on first romances and abetting in standard acts of teen rebellion. After high school graduation, we all went to different colleges, but didn’t lose touch. Over breaks we made time to hang out, and in between, we used Facebook and even wrote old-fashioned snail mail.

During our time apart we grew in different directions — met new people, developed independent dreams. But we still get together for consultation and support. We discuss new questions and challenges. Getting married, having children, buying houses, launching careers, getting divorced — these are the weighty concerns of our lives now. I'm so lucky to have the same companions today as I did when first daring the deep end of the swimming pool, or as seatmates in the jungle of the middle school cafeteria. We aren't physically side by side anymore, but I still feel like we're wading into adulthood together.

I'm also lucky that all these friends live relatively close to each other. I now live in Utah, but the other girls all live within two hours of Savage. Even though I can't stay in touch with all my old acquaintances, I can count on the girls to catch me up. I get the inside scoop on all the community happenings, which businesses are opening and closing, who got a new job or sold their house. Things that don’t matter to me in a town where I’ve only lived a short time, and where I might not stay very long, are interesting tidbits at home. And here, I can watch the ghosts of our former selves trick-or-treating down the block, stopping at Ma’s Kettle for French fries on the walk home from school, playing baseball in the backyard, or eating sno-cones at Savage Fest.

When I come home for a visit, we gather at one of our parents’ houses and watch the same old Disney movies we loved when we were kids. True, now the movies are on DVD instead of VHS, and we share a bottle of wine instead of a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese. The topics of conversation change, but the trust and comfort is constant. My home town and my childhood friends are high on my list of blessings.