A very long time ago, 30 years to be exact, I found a stray girl. She was sat on her bike at the kerb outside my house crying, lie the good and caring girl I pretended to be I asked her what was wrong “My brothers have left me” was the reply, I asked where she lived you could see her back gate from where we were stood, told my mum were I was going, and escorted the lost girl home.
That’s her in the middle, the birthday girl with the grin, can you guess which one is me?
We have had ups and downs and long periods with very little contact mostly during puberty, I AM three years older you know but we have always been best friends. Visits to the pub I worked in before it opened with tales of redundancy and woe, non too clean breakups with unsavory boyfriends. Weddings, births, near death experiences childish behavior of “friends”, family members behaving in an unseemly fashion, the lot. If it has been two days or two years it made no difference we are best friends.
Speaking of childish behavior well that’s not quite right is it? Child LIKE is the word I’m after. I know what you are thinking “wow that three years makes a lot of difference in maturity” despite appearances Bev is the mature sensible one, real career, mortgage no debts, she always seemed to know what she wanted her life to be, I on the other hand have been winging it for so long I make it look planned.
Last night at our usual craft night read excuse to talk rubbish and drink pink plonk I found a card placed next to my current project. It was a happy anniversary card containing a poem that made me cry. Now, little be-known to me this card has been waiting for an opportune moment to be presented for around six months. What with one thing and another every time a planned opportunity to present the card arose the event (special craft night, girls night out etc,.) was cancelled usually by me so last night was sensible Bev’s resignation that I will never be predictable enough to plan anything for.