There are times when having time off is actually what is really needed. Having days with zero plans and no one to see unless the cat and the post man count, which I don’t think they do, to just potter about and drink tea and watch movies than make you cry until you hiccup. Today has been one such day and it’s culminating in this post…after crying at movie.
When I’m on my own at home I have free rein over the Firestick and I get to watch films that Husband really doesn’t want to watch and he just won’t enjoy it. Admittedly, there are lots of films he does like and we watch them together – but sometimes, I like to watch films alone. I wanted to see “Miss You Already” but didn’t see it at the cinema and lo, it came onto Amazon Prime, so I watched it. Alone. A film about best friends, or so I thought. Well, it was a film about best friends and it inspired me to write this post, for my best friend. So Lindsey, this one is for you.
We have been friends, best friends since we were tiny. We met when we were 5, maybe 6. I left school really briefly and we were reunited 6 months later in Junior school and by that point, our friendship was cemented. We were inseparable. We thought we would be together forever, primary school and then secondary school. It wasn’t to be – you moved to Scotland of all bloody places when we were 8. We were heartbroken. We shared a necklace, 2 halves of a heart. Our parents thought it was sweet and that we would find new best friends. We found new friends, sure. Ones that became really, really good friends but I’ve never found anyone like you.
We spent hours on the phone to each other. We wrote countless letters to each other and drew pictures. When we were 11, you came back for a visit with your sister and mum and for a week, we were back together. To really make it memorable, you got really ill and we had to call the doctor in the middle of the night. I was so scared, even though you would be ok in a few days. When we took you back to London to get the train home we were both so very sad. I have a picture of us in McDonalds – your mum looks like she wants to cry and we are both red-eyed and clutching hands. You went home and I went a little bit nuts. I made plans to run away, to run away to Scotland and to live with you. I never carried out my plans but in the back of an old diary are the numbers for the bus and the train companies that would have been my route.
We continued to write and call and then for my 14th birthday, mum surprised me with a plane ticket to see you. At first I thought it was a joke…but nope. No joke, I got a week with you. A whole week. I think we drove your mum a bit mad (sorry Gill) and we ate way too many kola kubes. We tried to dye our hair red and destroyed your mum’s towels (sorry again Gill). I bled all over your bathroom when I cut myself shaving my legs for the first time. We snuggled up in the same bed and giggled and talked until the sun came up and then we destroyed the kitchen making garlic mushroom pancakes for breakfast. We went on pony rides through the hills and ate haggis and venison. We were together again and it was great.
I went home. Again, I planned my escape but again, I never carried it out. And as we grew up, our friendship just got better. Even when you got sick and then got better. Even when I went off to uni and lost the plot a bit, we still had each other. I flew to see you when I was 21 and again, we were unchanged. A week of drunken madness, of midnight scurries down a dark lane, frightening the pants off of each other. Toasted cheese sandwiches by the loch, sharking old riggers at pool and holding vigils in the corridor. Memories made together with your friends and the man who is now your husband and daddy to your babies.
About this man – we went to the chippie one night and you stayed behind. We got talking and I could tell he loved you. I knew then, and while I’ve said it before, “I TOLD YOU SO!” Your babies are beautiful – like you. You brought both of them to my wedding, even though we didn’t really know about one of them and he was just a nauseous feeling that couldn’t quite be attributed to travel sickness. Panda momma. You rock at being a momma, just in case you ever doubt it. I’m a pseudo-aunt and I love those babies of yours – if they ever need a home from home, there is space for them here, wherever I happen to be.
When I watched the film today, I thought of you. My best friend. Despite hundreds of miles and your very dodgy internet signal, you’re always there with me. You get me. You walked down the aisle with me. You stuck me (literally – so much tape) into my wedding dress and saw me off into being married. We’ve been together longer than anyone else in our lives (other than our parents).
What I’m trying to say is no matter the distance, no matter what we are doing in our lives, you’ll always have me.
Lots of love,