There are people who roll through life without a best friend. I can't imagine it. Some of us are blessed with a cadre of very special friends. People who care. People who love you. People who will show up with shovels and tarps if there is a body to bury.
I haven't killed anyone, FYI.
My very best friend for more than half my life is Sarah. We became close when I was in college and she was in graduate school. She became my nearest and dearest.
I will never forget her coming to see me in the hospital after I had Gracie. She was wearing the bridesmaid's dress she wore in my wedding. She had been at an event that required a formal gown and came as soon as she could. I was still sort of flat on my back in the delivery room and they had taken the baby to do whatever it is they do when a new little person emerges. It was just Sarah and me. I sat up and my belly all of a sudden sort of plunked down: all that extra flesh and the fetus out. "Oh, Nance," she said. It was a solid best friend moment.
Then there was a moment when I was breast pumping both of my udders at the same time while watching the "Golden Girls" and she rolled in. I didn't flinch, nor did she. She is my soul sister.
We have finished each other's sentences. Been in each other's weddings. Laughed and talked and understood. "Taught" preschool Sunday School just so we could see each other. Traveled. Taken care. Her capacity for kindness is unending and far beyond mine. Her children are mine and mine hers.
There is nothing I wouldn't do for her or them.
Our lives have diverged in recent years. Busy, demanding. And we don't spend the time together we used to. But it doesn't matter. The minute we speak it is us. And we will converge again. Soon.
I know people without besties. I know Lavernes with no Shirleys. Every day of my life, I'm so grateful I'm not among them.
I love you, Sar.
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