Tuesday, March 27, 2012

A Letter to my Oldest Friend

Amber is my oldest friend. I've known Amber since before I can remember. She was always the cool older girl that I wanted to be. I was furiously jealous that she already had a sister. We shared barbies, made houses for our littlest pet shop animals with jenga blocks, stayed up eating whopper malt balls during sleepovers (remember that time I threw them up in your hair in the middle of the night? Sorry about that.) We had crushes on John Smith and Thomas from Disney's Pocahontas. She let me wear her clothes. We ate lunch together (remember peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches that your mom would serve on the little tin trays with roosters on them?) and played with her mom's collection of scarves and elephant figures. She was the best.

I am completely sure this was taken immediately after my mom told me it was time to go home.

Over the years we drifted apart until one chance encounter in a Bath and Body Works brought us back together. I believe, to my very core, that it was divine intervention made her randomly stop at a store in a part of town she almost never went to. She was and is still the cool older girl. I'm still jealous that she already has a sister. She is still beautiful and kind and good.

She introduced me to First Friday and Pita Jungle. She was with me the night I met my future husband, I've seen her married, she was one of my bridesmaids, and I've watched her become a mother. We've got some good history.

Dear Amber, 
     Thank you. Thank you for being who you are and for loving me for who I am. Thank you for being a force of good in my life. I don't know if I've ever told you, but you rescued me. You taught me to love myself and convinced me that I was interesting and worth spending time with. I think that you were key in me being ready to meet Gary in so many ways. Thank you for sitting next to Mark that night so that I ended up with the weirdo who pointed out our twin moles. For that alone I can never thank you enough.
      I love the light and peace you exude; even when you talk about being frazzled all I can see is a woman who moves slowly, speaks softly and loves fully. You are still the girl I want to be. It brings me such joy to see our girls play together (or rather, to see Ivy tolerate C...I'm sure the playing will come soon enough!) I can't wait to see you again, but for now, I just want you to know that I love you my friend.
     Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

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