I smiled. Whether I was supposed to or not, I did. And I was pleased with my gut.
Life is a funny thing. It brings people in and out and through and under and around and beside. Sometimes it puts them at arms length. Sometimes it snuggles them up under your arm and into your shoulder. Regardless of many inconsequential meetings and shallow "hello's", some of those meetings leave an indelible mark that refuses to even fade, let alone go away.
I've been pretty fortunate in my life - no real enemies within the context and definition of 'enemy', save except for a few mediocre retards that come and go with no great significance. Then of course, you get the two-legged leeches that try and suck you dry - defying all that is holy in your efforts to get them to release. And then you get a keeper.
A keeper is a pretty big deal because they don't come along with any old drop of a hat or whoosh of wind. They're special. They're the ones that don't go blurry in the crowds - they keep in perfect focus because they too are scanning the hordes. These people are important. It's intimidating to find a keeper because you can't fake it. You can't tell them what you think they want to hear. You can't brush them off. You can't shortcut.
In myself, when I get overwhelmed with how amazing something is, I find that I, all of a sudden and out of the blue, am timid of it; that I am strangely frightened and mystified that I may not be able to hold this, this magificant thing in my hands as gently as I am to hold it. I get fearful that I may squish the shit out of it and it will never survive. Kind of like you've been carrying around an old doll for awhile, just because you liked it, that you felt warmth from it, and all it's quirky little dents and scratches made you feel safe and human. And then someone had to go and ruin it by telling you it's priceless. And then I'm scared because even though I've always known it was priceless, atleast to me, suddenly it was priceless to people that didn't care for it in the same way that I had. Suddenly it became breakable and I cared more about dropping it than I did enjoying it.
I have two best friends. I don't think I ever fully comprehended what it was that 'best friend' meant until recent years, which is probably for the best since I think it is an art that is learned with age and mistakes. Sometimes you're cursed and sometimes the sun shines and you win the gold medal. That's what best friends are about. Because they're there. They're like a perfect day in the spring and fall - could be sunny and cold, or sunny and warm. Regardless, it's sunny. That's the biggest deal.
There are moments that bring different blessings. There are moments that grant all the time in the world and then there are moments where it all slips away. But they're still moments. And they're still mine. And my best friends are still in there.
Do you know what makes me laugh? Is that if I could, I would move us into one big house - a big fucking house, because even best friends can't look at each other day in and bloody day out - but what a hoot!! It would be a sprawling ranch and at its gate would be a great big sign that read "Welcome to Pandemonium - Enjoy the Show!" And we would laugh. A lot. And we would talk. In depth. And we would cry. And we would heal. And we would grow bigger and heartier and meet each new year as getting better from the previous. We would be a snowball effect.
The beauty of it is, is that we already are and already are doing.
And just for the record, I'm still going to lug you around like you're my favourite doll. Because you are.
'Some women hold up dressed that are so ugly and they always say the same thing: "this looks much better on." On what? On fire?'