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We're pushing on, we're passing through
It won't be long til I walk with you
Tonight I'm down, I'm inside out
Staring at the pictures in the album you forgot about
Isn't it a shame, times have changed
But isn't it strange...lifelines stay the same
Round and round...can't believe my heart is waiting this long
All along we've been children in a cold world where wonder was lost everyday
If love was a compass
Oh I've lost my way
This is my best friend. Her name is Jordana. This is what 18 years of friendship looks like.
We met in junior high- she was a year ahead of me, and all I remember is that one random winter day, we ended up on the same public bus home, and we figured out that we lived about three blocks away from each other.
From that point on, we were practically inseparable, save for the usual junior high drama that happens between two female best friends. We shared everything- extracurricular activities, New Kids on the Block tapes, boyfriends (yeah, plural. Twice- one went better for her and one went better for me, but neither of them ended up marrying either of us so, whatever. Besides, in junior high, at least for us, anything beyond second base was absolutely incomprehensible.)
I think we maybe grew apart a bit in high school, but we were still friends. There was never a time when I didn't consider her a friend. Perhaps the late night brownies and sleepovers cooled a bit, but we were both still there for each other when we needed it.
We both ended up in Texas for various periods of time, and managed to stay in contact- she visited me at school a couple times and we had a great time. After we both moved back to the hometown, we had some contact and she helped me out with my wedding. We stayed close, then I became a mom and we grew apart, mostly because of the demands of a small child on my life. She also had joined a new church, and had a new bevy of friends, none of whom I knew very well. We temporarily lost each other, even though we were only a phone call away.
Circle around to a couple years ago, and the long and short of it is that Jordana needed a friend. And the first person she called was me. We got her through her what needed getting through, and we rebonded. It's sad when it takes a catharsis to make you realize what was gone in the first place- I won't pretend to have been the best person for the job, but I was there for her, and I know she'd be there for me if I needed her.
We did our first triathlon together- something I practically dragooned her into doing. Training time was a great time to get lots of talking done, and we often talked the way we had while spending nights at each others' houses. Somehow, despite the years passing, the charm of girlhood has never left the two of us- we are still the same girls we always were. We can often tell what the other is thinking- our tastes are incredibly divergent, anything from clothing to music to reading material. She knows me better than anyone else, save possibly my parents and husband- and our motto as regards our significant others is simple: I know you love her, and you can have her now, but she was mine first.
A few months ago, I had the privilege of serving as her maid of honor, and I can only hope that she and her husband find as much joy in their life together as the boy and I have. She's still in the hometown, and though I'm in Minnesota exile, I'm planning to get down home after finals, and I hope to get together for a day of scrapbooking, gabbing and bonding. There's always catching up to do.