My best friend did a whole series of blog posts about people in her life. They were stunning posts, and I was inspired to do some of my own, as long as she doesn’t mind me sort of stealing her theme/style. I thought a few of these might make a nice departure from the recent topic around here. As much for me as for you all out there.
We were two. Two years old. I’m not entirely certain how we actually met, but we were inseparable once we did. We used to sit on the stairs in the condos we lived in and laugh at nothing. “Practicing laughing” our parents would call it. Who knows best how to laugh with wild abandon but pre-schoolers without a care in the world?
I learned to be color blind because of you. Actually, I just never learned it mattered. Not until later. Your mommy’s skin was darker than your daddy’s, and they just made you beautiful. Even the sharp tongue of my grandmother at my 4th birthday party couldn’t poison my mind about who your family was.
I’d sit on the front porch of my house, and watch all the other kids play. I always waited for you to come home and play. Even then my friendships were about quality and not quantity.
Your family moved a few miles away so you could go to school somewhere else. But we were always in touch. Even when you moved across the country to go to college, we always knew where the other was at. Your mom was always my second mom. I was one of the surprises at your wedding shower, orchestrated by our mothers.
Surprisingly, despite the disparate paths our lives had taken, we had our first children within months of each other. I can’t help but think that destiny played a part in allowing us to experience the wonders of motherhood at the same time.
Time and distance now matter less because of the wonderful world of social networking. Your mom and I still exchange handwritten letters at Christmas, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t feel the impact of your friendship on my life.
My first friend. You taught me the meaning of that word. And I’ll be forever grateful.