30

"You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing."

(From E.B. White's Charlotte's Web)

I don't know who makes these rules, but little girls are supposed to have best friends and for the longest time I felt a certain sort of paranoia that I had never really had one. Sure, there were several girls who claimed that title, but it never really felt true - like we were forcing round pegs into square holes and then we'd act surprised when our relationship eventually deteriorated to a mess of sullen glares, terse conversations and tears. It may have been because we moved around a bit so I often felt like I was trying to claw my way into a social scene, accepting friendships even when I knew they weren't really the best of fits. Perhaps it took me longer than others to care less about myself and more about other people, a basic requirement of close friendships. Or, it may have just been bad luck. Regardless of the reason, by the time I was twenty I had all but resigned myself to the fact that, though I may have plenty of friends, I would never have one BEST friend.

Of course, I was wrong. It just so happens that my best friend was waiting for me to be old and wise enough to appreciate her. And the older I get, the better I understand this one truth: The most precious things are those that may take a bit longer to find but are always well worth the wait.

So, happy 30th birthday, Carrie. Thank you for making me laugh, for listening to me and caring about the things I say, for being so good at correspondence when I am so very awful at it, for being a peacekeeper, for your endless empathy, and most of all for simply being my friend.