Since I’m awkward and an introvert and snotty and different and generally just not great with humans, I don't make friends easily. Or kind of at all. With my mom and my five sisters I have besties built into my family. Those six are stuck with me. And then I have Amber, and I have Jessica, the friends I met online. (That is true. Never you mind the details . . . )
These two are the best kind of friends. We don’t have to talk all the time. Sometimes we text every day. They’ve got wits that are quick and minds that are open. They’re educated. They're thoughtful. They’re good moms. They are bright and curious, and, perhaps best of all, they've got depth.
When we get together we don’t do worthless shit like pedicures and shopping. If shopping happens along the way, okay, but we never set out to blow time like that. Instead we sprawl on my couch and talk for hours. We eat in my kitchen. We learn things. We share facts and seek opinions. Sometimes we travel. And we patronize hokey local museums.
It all doesn’t happen often though, because we all don't all live in the same state. Jess is in L.A. and Amber’s in the ‘Tah. We three in one place is a too infrequent thing. Like, only once yearly.
But it’s happening now.
I’ve got ‘em both locked in my house at this very moment. Amber’s nestled in the guest room. Jess is on the bed in my office. Today we did what we do. We went to an old cemetery. We got Amber to make a spaghetti squash bake for dinner. I made hummus. We ate candy. We talked on my couch. And, as ever, my friends froze because I keep my house like an ice box.
These pals are the good part of being a grown up. (Which, as we all know, can really suck.) They’re why it’s so important that I have a comfy place for guests. I need these humans. They’re real and nurturing and reflective and responsible and thinking and pretty and fit and stylish and clever and talented and above-average and exactly everything I could want in people of my own. And right now they are right here.