A while back, a good friend of mine from high school messaged me.

Her parents will be celebrating their 50th anniversary this year, and she wanted to know if I'd be willing to take family photos.

I jumped at the chance.

This weekend, I packed up the van with gear and headed west of Ireland, Ind., to meet up with Jane and her family at her parents' house for an on-location session.

As I pulled onto the long county road I used to know so well, I suddenly felt a pang of nervousness. The scenery on the road was familiar, yet foreign. 

I knew I was on the right road but, wow, things were different. A coal mine now filled my vision to the east, swallowing the farmland I once remembered.

The last time I was on this road, I was probably 18. I was driving a red Pontiac Sunbird at the time, and I'm sure we were concocting some type of mischief to get into. I remember some deep conversations about boys and life in Jane's upstairs bedroom. I'm sure we thought we had it all figured out. Little did we know, we weren't even close.

Things for Jane and I are dramatically different since I was at this house last time. We're both married with children now. We both have college degrees and careers under our belts. We have different friends, the old high school gang long-since disbanded with the exception of random run-ins.

As I approached the end of the road, I started to wonder if I'd even recognize the house or its occupants anymore. Then there was that sudden thought: "What would I feel like as an adult in this house." I'd only known it as a teen.

In "teen" mode, I immediately went to the side door. It wasn't a thought-out move. It was automatic.

A familiar face answered the door - Jane's mom, Joyce. She sent me to the front door where I could unload my gear directly into the makeshift studio. I think that was probably the first or maybe the second time I've ever gone in the front door. 

Dragging all my gear into the living room, I could hear the bustle as everyone was getting ready for photos. I had to laugh. As the mother of three, I understand the concept of trying to herd cats. 

As I set up, I anxiously awaited a real glimpse of Jane or her younger brother John. It had been a long time since we'd seen each other or even talked other than on social media.

Time creeps when you're anxious.

I can't remember who I saw first but suddenly, the room was filled with familiar faces. Any sign of nervousness I may have had was drowned in the din of familiar voices.

It was great seeing Jane, her husband Eric and their children. I barely recognized Jane's "little" brother. The last time I saw him, he was in the eighth grade. He's now a grown man with a family of his own. 

As I was doing breakouts of each family and we were collectively trying to engage a teething 2-year-old, I glanced at Jane's dad sitting relaxed in the upholstered chair to my right. He was grinning from ear-to-ear, never saying a word. It was so "Jane's dad" - the calm in the storm.

Joyce and Jerry are exactly as I remembered. There may be a little more gray in their hair and wrinkles on their face but had I closed my eyes, it would be as if no time had passed.

Apparently, they've come up with a pretty good formula - beautiful life, beautiful family and, come September, 50 years of marriage under their belts.

Congrats -

And thanks for inviting me back into your home after all these years.