Hello, my friend…
Just a quick note to tell you how much I value our friendship. Too sincere? Maybe, but totally true.
I’ll never forget the day I met you in fourth grade/at summer camp/in health class/ at orientation/in the break room/in Mommy & Me/at law school/when the kids started kindergarten/on that hellish work trip. My first thought was, “I wish I had her hair.” My next thought was, “I hope she likes me.”
And I’m so glad you did.
You are the type of person that keeps me sane, makes me laugh and accepts me for who I am, which, let’s face it, is not always a bundle of joy. But you always seem glad to see me anyway.
You appreciate my love of Jane Austen/Nora Roberts/Katniss Everdeen, my obsession with Madonna/Mariah/Olivia Roderigo and my devotion Succession/Downton Abbey/Law & Order. The love we share for Colin Firth/Harry Styles/Taye Diggs is mutual but I think if the occasion ever did arise where one of us could act upon it, you’d let me win which is way more than I would do for you.
You remember my birthday. You admire my creativity. You pick up the check when I least expect it. You tell me I look great even when I don’t. And when I actually look great, you tell me I look fabulous.
You were there for me when I really needed a gut check/amateur medical advice/intervention. You listen to my symptoms and make your recommendations over the phone while simultaneously cooking dinner and Googling, which is a special skill. The fact that you can quote medical journals, US Magazine and Eat Pray Love in your treatment plan is icing on the cake.
You were there for me when I blew out my knee/went into pre-term labor/broke up with that idiot and you never once chastised me for over-reaching, doing too much or trying too hard. All of which I was guilty of, of course. But you came with tea and sympathy, aka wine and Parmesan crisps, and said exactly the right thing, which was nothing and just let me vent.
You were there for me when I got fired/promoted/caught abusing the shipping & receiving privileges at work and you had the perfect advice, which was, “Never cry at the office.” You were so right and I really learned my lesson, maybe a tad too late that to save that one job, but now, I’m solid. I’ve learned to cry in the car at lunch and that’s been a real boost to my career.
You were there for me when I did the detox/started my cat-centered business/entered that karaoke contest and managed not to blurt out, “You’re crazy.” I could see you thought so, but you held your tongue and just asked, “What can I do to help?” You might have tried a little harder to talk me out of my bad idea, but no hard feelings.
You were there for me when I had the third baby/got divorced/heard the diagnosis and I thought I might never leave the house again. You showed up with your signature Caesar salad and you told me, in the nicest way, “Take a shower, put on some make-up and get it together, for God’s sake.” Now that I think about it, you were kind of mean but that was just what I needed.
You were there for me when I lost the pregnancy/my other great friend/my mother and never once did you say, like so many others, ‘”It’s for the best. At least it went quickly.” Because it wasn’t for the best, not at all. One day I had somebody in my life and the next day I didn’t. How could that be for the best? You showed up and stayed the night. You brought soup and bread. You sent that beautiful arrangement of all white flowers with the roses, hydrangeas and stephanotis that was just perfect. And now, when I see white flowers, I think of my loss and your kindness and it’s all right.
I owe you for that night at that dive bar on our road trip. I should not line dance under the influence and I think we both know that now.
I owe you for letting me borrow that really expensive evening clutch with the feathers. I had no idea puppies liked feathers.
I owe you for that really poor financial advice I gave to you. It was loud on the subway, but I thought I heard that guy in the suit say, “Buy Enron.”
I owe you for Brad. Let’s not talk about him ever again.
You’re smart. You’re funny. You text just the right amount. You’re the one person that tells my about the thing in my teeth without sounding just a little bit superior.
Thank you for the years.
Thank you for the dancing.
Thank you for the sunshine.
Thank you for encouragement.
Thank you for the empathy.
Thank you for the laughter.
Thank you for your friendship.
You’re the best.