The Daily Post: Friend
Southern women are unique when it comes to friends – everybody we ever knew is our, “best friend,” no matter how long it’s been since we laid eyes on them.
My best friend of 37 years was notorious for making this claim. We’d run into someone and she turn to me, “Sheila, I’d like you to meet my best friend…”
It amazed me the number of women she introduced that way and as soon as they were gone, smile at me and wrap her arm around mine. “Of course, “you’re my bestest friend.” And, I knew I was.
She and I shared a long history of men, broken romances, college, and marriages (plural). We worked together, lived together, and literally helped deliver each other’s children. We finished each other’s sentences, shared an uncanny ESP –instinctively knowing when we needed to call. When we talked, we listened and we “got it.”
A “Bestest” friend is the kind that will look you in the eye and tell you the truth. One who is at your side through thick and thin, the good, and the bad. We watched each other grow up; make huge mistakes in life, held each others hands through the worst of it and cheered our successes. We competed (as women do) but always had each other’s back.
Whine companions, consultants, health advocates, advisors, cheerleaders, and friend. We were supposed to spend our golden years somewhere tranquil (the beach) laughing our asses off at all the things we’d done.
Our connection was visceral and unbreakable. We were supposed to grow old together, but it was not to be.
A friendship like ours comes along only once in a lifetime. Although, it’s been seven years, I miss my “Bestest” friend every day.
Do you have a “bestest” friend?