Do you remember your first best friend?
I do. Her name was Elizabeth and we were in elementary school together. She had long dark hair and always seemed to be tan. She had this bright pink dress that I loved. But I knew that pink dress wouldn’t look the same on me. I was bony, fair and blonde.
We’d have sleep-overs and I remembered her Mom seemed to be always tired. She had dark hair and these purplish half moons under her eyes all the time.
Elizabeth (no one ever shortened her name to Liz or Lizzie) and I were inseparable. Then a new girl moved to town, Trish. She’d moved from Louisiana and she and I became best friends too. So we became a three-some. But with three, there’s always someone that feels left out, you know? I had that enviable middle spot for a time, then Trish moved closer to Elizabeth’s house and they began to hang out together more. They could be at each other’s houses in minutes. Me, I was stuck out further away.
Then we moved to another small-town and as far as I know my used-to-be best friends became best friends.
Rite of Passage
In middle-school, I was in a new town and new school. I made friends quickly but I was shy and awkward. My next best friend was another brunette and she was tan. It’s funny how my best friends seemed to be the opposite of me — physically and socially.
Dee was outgoing and we went through the rites of passage that you go through as you mature and find your place in the group that is middle-school, high-school. I had another best friend, another Trish and I found myself in that same middle spot again, divvying up my time between my two best friends.
I didn’t bloom until my senior year and by then, I was setting my sights on another place and other friends. Once again, my two best friends became best friends — to each other. They stayed in the same place and I left at eighteen.
I went back to one high-school reunion and it was fun, but odd. I kind of envy people that stayed in the same place their whole lives — they have strong attachments to the memories, people and place. When you move around, both the good and bad memories fade — get coated over and you wonder if you remember them all correctly or if you remember them the way you wished they were.
Welcome to Adulthood
It’s been my experience that as you get older, you choose your friends more wisely. You start to realize that life is short and you want to spend your time with people who not only make you feel good, but get you. They accept you for who you are. They know all your secrets, your mistakes and still love you — exactly the way you are. They want you to succeed, they challenge you and help you understand life from a different perspective.
A friend is defined as this: “A person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.”
Simple and it doesn’t mean you have to share the same opinions about everything — those things we all get worked up about, you just have an affection for them — exactly the way they are. Unconditional.
If you’re lucky you have one or two of those in your life because they’re rare. If you can count on one hand, the people who’d be there for you, no matter what, you’re lucky. Hubby’s my best friend — he’s my go-to person and the kindest and most decent human being I’ve ever met. I lost one of my best ever friends but I still talk to him.
Now we have this new way of making friends. We all share pieces of ourselves here. We open up our hearts to each other, you know? That’s what friends do.
I consider all of you my friends. I laugh at things you write. I’m concerned when you have something going on in your life that’s causing you pain. I respect you for your beliefs — I may not always agree, but I respect you. And as much as we can be fond of one another on this kind of public forum, we are. It’s strange, isn’t it? But it’s nice because I never would have “known” you otherwise. I now have friends from all over the country and some from other countries.
Anyway, thanks for being my friend and even if we never meet, I do care otherwise I wouldn’t keep doing this — revealing parts of my life to you and looking forward to what you reveal to me.
We’re friends like that.
Happy Monday everyone — my friends and here’s some Queen to start your week out nicely.
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Do you remember your first best friend? Is he/she still your best friend? Do you talk to her/him regularly?
Photo creds: Awkward girl