Yes, that’s me on the left and Patty, on the right. We’ve been best friends since we were 14 years old but that’s not the entire story.
There have been ebbs and flows to our friendship. Not unlike any other relationship that is worth its’ salt.
We met in San Luis Obispo this weekend and reconnected after more than a year of silence, misunderstanding and stubborn angst. (Oh, you know what that’s like, do you?) Two women collecting evidence of a misdeed, a miscommunication, a missed opportunity, misconstrued intentions and somethings amiss.
We declared amnesty and bilateral disarmament. We raised the white flag of surrender and caught up on our children, our husbands and lovers and lives and decided that life was too short to continue the war. Amen.
And then we went shopping.
Our friendship has spanned the test of time. We were maids of honor in each others’ weddings and we sat waiting at the hospital during the labor and deliveries of each others’ first born sons. I lost my parents to cancer. Her daughter had a brain tumor. I went through a divorce. Her husband’s business folded. You don’t throw that kind of loyalty away on a whim or an argument or a temper tantrum.
I thought perhaps we had just gone our separate ways. We were different. If we had met now at our ripe old ages of fifty-something who knows if we would ever have become such fast friends. I consoled myself with thoughts of “Life goes on” and “Que sera sera” and “I have other women friends”.
But as soon as I saw her walking down Monterey Street waving her arms to get my attention and opening them up to grab me in a huge hug I knew there was no one like her. She is my oldest bestest friend. She is the olive oil on my bread. She is the salt on the rim of my margarita glass. She is the person in my life who understands me best. And I her. She is the closest thing to a sister that I will ever have. We’re in this crazy world together through thick and thin.
And there is no doubt in my mind that we will be besties forever.