When I was about 7 years old I met someone who would be in my life to this very day. There’s a lot to be said for that considering I’m 33 now.
I just did the math. That’s almost 27 years. Something must be wrong with math today because that’s can’t be right. Math is obviously broken.
But I digress…
Trudy is this very special person but I call her Dewey, and in all my life I have yet to meet someone else like her.
Dewey and I met on the grade school playground, when she stuck up for me and didn’t even know me. That’s just how she rolls. From that day on I looked up to her, admired her, was jealous of her, wanted to be her and was grateful for her. We made friendship bracelets and wore BFF charms, like any other respectable best friends. Duh.
As a kid I spent more time at her house than mine. Her parents were married and mine were divorced. She also had a cool older sister, a schizo cat named Elvis and a dog named Mitchell who I always called my boyfriend. Her Mom would drive us to Skate Junction and her Dad would make pancakes for our dolls. I still remember her home phone number from when we were kids.
If she thought something was cool, well then HELL YEAH it was cool! And she was also one of those people who did every sport and activity like second nature. I was awkward and uncoordinated. She ran, I ran and fell down. She made a base hit, I struck out. She was captain of the dance team, I was only near the front because I was short. But I tried everything and I owe that to her. She got me to do the things I never thought I could. I didn’t always do great but I was still out there doing it and she was out there telling me she knew I could.
Some of my earliest memories are of torturing her dad. Poor Bob. Really, like seriously, POOR BOB. I’m almost positive that to this day Bob probably questions my ability to drive. He also probably wished the Mercedes had child locks (because opening car doors while your moving just to see the interior lights go on, is never recommended but still funny) and that even as very small children that we would recognize that we were going to Disneyland when, in fact, we should have been going to Knott’s. Bob just always reminded me of one of those cartoon Dad’s banging his head against a wall whenever we were around.
Side Note: Dear Bob, I have, in fact, figured out the difference between the clutch, and the brake, and that cars need oil. Also, if it makes you feel any better, I have a daughter now who will probably torture me because that’s how karma works.
Later in high school, there was no shortage of getting in trouble. Drill team kidnappings, Taco Bell parking lots, paper crowns, Australian Beach Club, The Metro in Riverside, the Gia, engine fires (hence the lessen in cars needed oil), boys and everything else that goes along with being that age.
Once we were even driven home from a
rave gathering of people outdoors, in the trunk back seat of some girls car because our ride freaked out and ditched us had to leave early. Not really recommended. (And if it’s now 2026 and my daughter is reading this, I’m lying. Good girls don’t go to raves or ride in trunks.) But if it did happen, which it didn’t, it would be totally hilarious.
After graduation I went off to San Diego State and she to Long Beach State. New friends, new lives less time for each other. As more time went by I moved out of state. What we realized was that no matter how far or how long between visits, all it takes is a phone call. We could go months without talking and 1 phone call or text and it’s like nothings changed.
We both knew if one needed the other, the other would be there. No matter what it took.
About 8 years ago she was going through a particularly trying time in her life and I come home to see her. At one point we snuck away and sat on the porch of her house and I finally told her how much her friendship meant to me all those years. How much I respected and admired her my entire life. How much I would have given anything to be her at times. The last thing I would have ever expected to come out of her mouth, was the next thing that did. Turns out it was ME she respected and admired and wanted to be!
My heart grew a little that day. I’m not sure if she ever knew how much *I* needed to hear that at that time in my life as well. Your 20’s are never easy. I left to go home to Arizona with a renewed sense of self and confidence.
Next month, the day before my 34th birthday, my best friend is getting married and I will be there, standing with her in front of friends and family on the most important day of her life. I am honored.
Not many people are lucky enough to have friendships like this in their life time. The kind of relationships that the others are measured against. But I do, and I am and I know it.
To my best friend: Thank you for sticking up for me that one day so long ago. Thank you for pushing me when I needed to be pushed. Thank you for teaching me how to drive a stick, how to do split leaps, how to play light as a feather stiff as a board, introducing me to my first scary movie, telling me he wasn’t good enough to me, listening to me when I said he wasn’t good enough for you, not getting mad at me when I
kicked lightly tapped your 3 year old in the shin because he REALLY deserved it, and for every other moment in my life when we laughed, cried, danced, drank and generally caused a ruckus together. They, and you, are priceless to me. Congratulations on your wedding. Love, Me
|I still have this.|
P.S. Thank you for letting me pick out my own bridesmaids dress. Nothing worse than an ugly bridesmaids dress.