Thank you for being my best friend.
No, really. I know I say it all the time but I really truly don’t know what I would do without you. The 500 iMessages/day, the morning conference calls, the good night messages, sharing dreams (luscious ones or scary ones), having the same alma mater, exchanging frustrations over our identical career choices, Sunday mornings– in bed– watching the same show or movie when we’re hundreds of miles away…these are what make up my life.
You make me feel like I’m not alone. You make me feel like I have something to look forward to when we celebrate Thanksgiving 2015 together. You’re my family. The family I chose. The family I will have some day. Through you, I realize that I have a true friend. One who won’t leave me out of her wedding party…no matter how much of a monster her mother in law is. One who’ll tell me she’s pregnant as soon as she pees on a stick, or even better, the minute she realizes she’s late. One who I’d gladly wake up at 5 a.m. for, get on a plane for, cross the Bay Bridge for, so I could be in the same city as her, sitting on an Ikea couch, watching the Golden Girls at 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning. These things seem lame, stupid, inconsequential…but not to us, not to you, and only cuz we know how much they mean to one another.
Other people, they change cities, careers, schools, friends, lifestyles, hair color, last names, and they move on and move apart. We just laugh at ourselves and remember where we come from, even down to the street corner…and how a change in zip code will never equal a change in heart.
It’s magical, having a best friend, not just one for photo opps on Saturday nights when the music is blaring and the champagne is pouring, but one who sits on the couch with you on a Sunday morning, who shares lazy Sundays where the only thing you can manage doing is eating and working out, maybe grocery shopping, too. Few are the friends who really stick with you through the thick and thin (literally and figuratively), the pounds, the jobs, the boys, the crushes, the crashes, and the happy, fleeting moments of euphoria…as well as the months of sadness. Ones who won’t judge you for crying over the same thing, seven months after you should have stopped.
More than anything, I am grateful for the magic of smiling, even when I’m feeling sad, scared, or overwhelmed. Just dialing your number puts me in a different place. I love the stupid things we laugh about…and how they suspend time, and snap us out of reality.
I don’t know how I could ever live without your advice…bull sh*t spared, the stuff you teach me and tell me to do that I wish you would sometimes just do for yourself. It is really the best therapy that money can’t buy.
And when all is said and done…I love that we share a history of achieving, accomplishing, moving onward and forward…which is why, right now, we realize that we can spend a couple of extra hours in bed…because isn’t that our version of Disneyland anyway? And hell, the world can wait. Really. It can.
©2012, Leegal Deeva. All rights reserved.