My best friend is very ill. It is not likely she will get
better. She calls me at odd hours as the drugs wear off,
and we talk, or rather she talks and I interject small
moments of assurance that I do understand her.

She doesn’t feel that she spent her life the way she
wanted to. It pisses her off that she compromised things that
changed her life. She remembers the grandiose plans we
made as we grew up and dreamed. A lifetime ago.

Best friends, the hell we raised together, the trouble
we found ourselves in and out of, the laughter we shared, and
the tears. Outgrowing each other, but managing,
how luckily to reconnect.

All the silent hours we spent side by side waiting with
each other thru the surgery’s, the broken arms, or
legs, the life and death of our children,
the family problems that we could
solve on the phone, but failed to solve in life.

The story’s we tell that have our kid’s asking..
did you really.. that become more ridiculous
with each telling, When you have
someone to laugh with. The lifetime of
achievements, happiness and sorrows.
Best Friends are like that.