I spent the evening last night with my best friend, just doing what we do. She's been my constant since we were old enough to play in a playpen, ride in a wagon, bathe in a bathtub and toddle through the grass together. We rode bikes, played school, made mud pies and dug in the sand together. When her dad said, "you dig the hole, I'll make it into a pool" we got out the shovels and started digging together. There might still be a 5'x3'x2' hole out behind the tree line of their old house, just waiting for kids to come back and make it big enough to give it life as a pool.
We went to school together... all the way through college. We've been through marriages, divorces, moves, more moves, new marriages and babies together. My kids call her "Auntie Erin" and it fits. It's appropriate. She's been by my side for all of life, even when there's a distance of several hundred miles between us. While we've had distance in the way of miles, the distance between our hearts has seldom been measurable.
We aren't and weren't the do-everything-together-always type of friends though. Our early years were spent physically close and built a bond that can never be broken. During the school years we attended different schools, but still maintained the bond with the distance of only our driveways separating our homes. High school took us down different roads, but they always merged at several points along the way. She was an athlete, I cheered her on. We shared an extreme dislike for track and enjoyed an empty school each week during track season. We worked together full-time during the summers and after school during the school year as activities allowed. We were connected the way small-town kids are. You couldn't really avoid anyone, even if you tried.
With all this close-quarters and connectedness you'd think there would have been fights. Catty, selfish, drama-filled fights. Nope. We've only had one fight during our 37 year relationship. ONE. Single. A disagreement over something trivial and ridiculous in the elementary-school years. The fight lasted at least a full 24 hours. I'm sure. I'm pretty sure an invitation to go on a bike ride down the dusty dirt roads ended that spat.
It occurred to me recently why I think our relationship is so strong to withstand 37 years and hundreds of miles of distance. Honesty and love. Gentle honesty and genuine love. Rarely have we been mean to one another (and never in adulthood). If one of us decides to try something new, the other is supportive and offers encouragement. Always. If she wants to run a 1/2 marathon, I'll call her up and give her support. I'll even start training to run a 10k with her when she decides she wants to do the 1/2 again as a mom of two under two. (I call it CrAzY, and she knows it.) When she realizes how CrAzY it is, we move on to something more manageable. No hard-feelings. No harsh words of youcouldn'thackit condemnation. Just relief that I don't have to keep running anymore!
So we accept each other for who we are. We can't help it. We grew up together and we'll grow old together. Though we wish we lived closer again, the idea of houses across the dirt road isn't altogether realistic anymore. When we travel to see each other, the important stuff isn't the "what should we do?" but the sitting and chatting and visiting and being together. It's the taking of kids to the park. It's the recreating of our old photos together by putting our daughters on a tire swing. It's the laughs and reconnecting and time spent just being us. Just doing what we do. Whatever it might be.
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