I’m baffled by the term “best friend,” as if true friendship could be measured or compared. Friends, to me, are those whose company we genuinely enjoy, whose interests match our own, but they are also the people we find absolutely loyal. As it is, I have a number of friends whom I adore and would do virtually anything for (well, anything legal that is…I mean, I work for the state, and I need my job and stuff in order to pay those pesky things called bills). I consider them loyal. I trust them to be a shoulder or a voice of support when things go sour, and I hope they do with me.
The ones who’ve failed in all of that are not my friends. I know this, but it’s taken me a couple of decades to come to terms with it.
All things considered though, my little sisters, both of them, have been my constant source of loyalty and support, and the three of us have been through a lot since…well…since the beginning. If anyone in my life should have such an overused and abused title as “best friend,” my sisters would hold it. Again, both of them. Not only have we been through much love and sadness, comedy and tragedy, together, they —
1. — laugh about the in-jokes involving our family, even when they are in supremely bad taste.
2. — were always the best source of blame whenever I did something stupid.
3. — were more than aware that I was also the best source of blame whenever they did something stupid.
4. — have no shame with me, as I have no shame with them.
5. — keep and share the best of secrets (that’s loyalty).
6. — know I will call them back…eventually…even as much as I hate talking on the phone.