My best friend and I don’t exchange birthday gifts or cards, and I don’t know why, because in the areas of gift-giving and card-selection, we are masters. I take her for granted, and I don’t thank her enough for being the friend that she is, so in lieu of a card or a gift, I’m sending out a thank you or two on her special day:
For wading through all the bullshit with me since 2003 and for relishing in all the joy, thank you. For cooking all those healthy meals for Ken after his surgeries and for going to the house and finding him because I knew, I just knew – even though I was on the other side of the world – that he was dead. He loved you so much, and I know he wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to find him or to break the news to me. He knew that only you would keep me from falling apart. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.
For shielding Sophie from so much bad news, like the time I left her with you so I could go listen to a nurse in Scottsdale tell me I had cancer. For carrying her on your shoulders when she was too tired to wait in line to see Santa and for baking her Dr. Seuss graduation cake, thank you. For trusting her to babysit your little girls, for being her first professional reference, for “helping” her pass online Chemistry even though you and I know she will never need it, and for making her feel like she matters – thank you.
For reminding me daily that it could always be worse – always – and that the heart wants what the heart wants, thank you. For being judgmental but never judging me, thank you. For waiting and waiting in hospital waiting rooms and in the hairdressers, thank you. For putting up with my airport behavior and pretending you understand why someone from Northern Ireland would rant like that. For letting me have the aisle seat. For the thousands of miles you have traveled across America with me, and for driving the rental car while I sing and don’t pay attention to signs on the road. For watching my favorite movies so you’ll get it when I quote huge chunks of dialogue.
“I’m not going to be ignored, Dan.”
For the concerts – for Ryan Adams and Tom Petty and Bob Seger and Bruce Springsteen and Steve Earle. For not liking Dave Matthews and for the unspoken reason why we both hate Coldplay. For adopting a greyhound and convincing me that I should as well. For the devil of a margarita – two of them – in Santa Fe. #thedevilinside #loveactually
For the lesson plan templates and your ‘forceful God complex’ and your ability to sniff out a complete fraud, thank you. For the million dollar ideas, none of which will come close to expand-a-fan, and for the hashtags, for#sleepingwiththeenemy and for #saysalltherightthings and for never tiring of our who-would-play-you-in-the-movie-of-your-life game, even though it always ends up the same way (I’m always Meryl Streep in “Falling in Love” and you’re Elizabeth Shue or Jennifer Grey).
For the road trips – to San Francisco or more than once, off the deep end. For walking on Beale Street and rhythm and blues at the Rum Boogie Cafe. For walking in Memphis in the pouring rain – how it poured – and convincing the bar owner to stay open and make fried green tomatoes for us. For going to Graceland. For splitting appetizers and the bill and feeling sorry for whoever has to take my order, but then remembering that i will probably find out that they have a degree in education. For signing my name when I don’t have my glasses and figuring out the tip. For asking me to come up with a creative justification for the expense when Todd asks about why your hair cost that much to cut and color.
For pool and poker. For scrapbooks and shopping lists. For buying the same outfits even though you are a “petite.” For the next best app. For sniglets and code words when we need an exit strategy#gottago For driving on the wrong side of the road when we find ourselves downtown and for losing your sense of direction on 7th Street – every time. For considering what not to wear before anything else and for always at least one lipstick that works for me. For ‘anticipating my needs’ and not ever minding that I won’t take no for an answer. For tuning me out while you chop vegetables and I try to find my train of thought. For the smallest handbag in America to the biggest. For never leaving a voice-mail and for never checking the ones I leave for you, because you know I’ll ramble and forget why I called, thank you. Although that last one worries me – what if I need bail?
I’m only “one away.”
For naming your cold sores like they are hurricanes and developing a poker face for bad meetings. For hours of good advice you know I’ll ignore, for showing up, and for being my best friend, thank you.
Happy Birthday. xo