I had a good phone conversation with my friend this afternoon. We check in like teenagers, and whatever stresses and strains we are experiencing are soothed by our talking them out. We laugh often when we might have cried, if not for each other. We advise each other. We share our grandchildren's adorable quotes and behaviors. I think she makes my life more real for me. I am more aware and awake about what is happening because of her.
A good friend is a treasure above price. The one you can be your negative nasty self with and admit less than stellar feelings and thoughts. The you shared on your bad days as well as your good. The fear you name with her. The joy, so that when something stupendous happens, you automatically pick up the phone to share it. We are complex and messy with each other. We contradict each other. Sometimes we cut each other off. It's all good. I am completely myself, and know a kind of acceptance with her that is hard to find. My sense of moral obligation to her friendship is steadfast. I would do just about anything for her, and she for me. I didn't earn this friendship. It was a gift. But I know it's value, and it's deep in the center of my heart.
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