A number of years ago, my daughter, Bernadette, her friend, Katie, and I made a date to watch the movie "Fried Green Tomatoes."
Along with watching the movie, we planned on making and eating fried green tomatoes.
At the time, we thought our plan would come to pass within a month or two.
This well-thought-out date ended up on the imaginary calendar. It did not happen.
Instead, a few years later we had a tea party in my dining room.
At that tea party, while eating an assortment of those delicious Pepperidge Farm cookies, we discussed making friend green tomatoes again.
Again, it did not happen.
When the memory of the tea party recently popped up on Facebook, I sent the photograph of the tea pot, cups and cookies on a plate to Bernadette and Katie.
"We must do this again," I wrote to both of them.
"Yes, we really do," Katie responded. "I agree completely. We also need to fry some green tomatoes since we never got around to it last time."
My daughter agreed.
The planning began.
Here is what I now know about a plan that does not materialize in a timely manner.
When the long-ago-but-not-forgotten plan resurfaces, it is better and more poignant than when planned the first time around.
In this case, we invited Katie's mother, Sherri.
Sherri, I might add, provided the green tomatoes, picked right off the vine in her garden.
In its purest and most poignant form, "Fried Green Tomatoes" is about friendship.
As I sat watching the movie, I looked at Sherri and our daughters. I thought about the day we first met: summer of 1995, Vacation Bible School, morning, snack time.
Being friends for almost 25 years is a big deal.
Sharing a history together is a big deal.
How appropriate, I thought, that we four watched "Fried Green Tomatoes" together.
So, after watching the first half of the movie, it was off to the kitchen to slice, dredge, fry and salt.
While snacking on the tomatoes, which were quite tasty, it was on to the second half of the movie.
After tears were dabbed away, and the credits were over, it was time to head into the dining room for cups of hot tea and cookies and reminiscing.
And, of course, there was much laughter.
"Here's to friendship," I offered. "Cheers to us."
Alvia Lewis Frey is a columnist for the Pharos-Tribune. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org