, , ,

Did you ever have a best friend? I’m talking about the kind of best friend that takes you through thick and thin, no matter what? From childhood on through adultery … er, adulthood. Who knows you, warts and all, and loves you anyway?

I have one of those.

I’ve had one of those since the third grade. When she lived up the hill from me. Her name is Kathy. And I had breakfast with her today.

Let me tell you a little bit about us.

Back when we met in third grade, I think, she lived up the street not far from me … actually the street parallel to mine … and we went to Elementary School together … here.

If I remember correctly, the door to Kindergarten was the one on the right, and we went into the one on the left for grade school.

I lived a half a block and three houses away from school.

In fifth grade, my heart broke a little as she and her family moved to the suburbs.

A year later, my family moved to the same suburbs. In sixth grade we were once again in the same school … and I lived up the road not far from her.

To be friends this long was amazing all by itself. But the story gets even more amazing.

Both she and I were in the Band. And both played the Clarinet.

This provided us with the ability to become, shall we say, socially adept.

With boys.

With kissing.

Sorry Kathy, but the truth must be told.

She, of course, met her husband. Me, not so much.

And on the topic of boys. And writing. I have previously stated that I had no writing ability or experience before the blogs of recent time.

I lied.

Back in Junior High School and High School, Kathy and I would write stories and private newsletters and whatnot. Exchanging them back and forth. And each of us would take turns adding to the story.

One story in particular sticks in my mind.

It included the names of two boys. One was a boy I had held hands with at church camp. This was a big deal in 8th grade back in the day. And the other boy, we’ll call him “John” was a cute boy in our class.

We both liked him. I really liked him. A lot. For years.

So the story was started out by Kathy. “The Story Of Kathy and John and Holly and Robin” (Robin was the boy of hand holding fame). And of course part of her verbiage included “And John liked Kathy”.

What? Can’t have that. This is the boy I have liked for two whole years (at that point … it ended up being … well, a lot more than two years).

So when it was my turn to write, the verbiage strayed toward “But John REALLY liked Holly”.

Handing it back to Kathy, she added her part to the ongoing story … with the addendum “But John REALLY, REALLY liked Kathy”.

I don’t recall the whole story. We passed it back and forth and added at will.

For the record, “John” REALLY liked Holly better. It was my curly hair that did it. But I digress.

After High School we ended up in college … different schools.

But lo and behold, two years later we were not only at the same school, but we were living in the same dorm.

And we were once again in the Band together.

And like I said, our friendship continued. For all those years. Suffice it to say that we kept in touch and our lives intermingled from time to time.

When she married, I was her Maid of Honor. When I married, she was my Matron of Honor.

I moved to the center of the state. She moved to the center of the state.

When she encountered some difficulties in her life, I was the first person she called (after her parents). When I encountered some difficulties in my life, she was the person that I called.

Amazing but true. All these years later.

This is the stuff that life-long friendships are made of.

And so when she was back in our hometown, visiting family this week, we decided to get together for breakfast. After all, I owed her.

We had placed a friendly bet. Me betting that a certain person would never get in touch with me ever again. She betting that he would.

I refuse to say who.

He did. I lost.

So this morning, I bought her breakfast. That’s the nice thing about betting on the negative for something that you really want to have happen.

If it doesn’t happen, at least you win the bet. If it does happen, then hooray, it happens. And you don’t care if you lost the bet.

Unfortunately for me it was just enough for me to lose the bet, but not enough to be a hooray moment.

But I got to see my friend.

And imagine my surprise when I saw that she and I were wearing exactly the same outfit. Well color wise. Purple shirt and Black slacks.

I swear we didn’t plan it.

I guess after a lifetime of being friends we are just on the same wave-length.

Lucky me.

Really. I am blessed to have a friend like this.