When I was 6 years old, I walked to my first day of school with my mother by my side.
Alongside of her was another mother.
Alongside that other mother, was another little 6 year old girl.
The little girl and I peeked at each other suspiciously from around our mothers’ waists.
The little girl and I became the best of friends.
When I was 12 years old, my father moved our family to the next province, and then four years later, he moved us further still.
Despite distance and differences my friendship with the little girl endured.
In my 20s, I moved to Montreal. We became roomates. We both met boys.
And I moved away again to follow my new husband.
This time however, the distance was detrimental to our slowly eroding friendship.
We wrote infrequently. We did not call each other.
Then my father died suddenly, and I did not tell her.
It was as though we had mutually agreed that our friendship had run its course.
Seven years later, when I was in a relationship with a different man, raising three children she didn’t know I had, trying to avoid an ex-husband that I hated, I got a phone call.
From the ex-husband that I hated.
Despite the fact that my ex and I were battling for custody of our children in court, could not be in the same room together because I would hiss like a cat and he…well, he would just say stupid things; despite the fact that my ex and I were definitely in a time in our lives where we did not want to communicate with each other, he called to tell me that my best friend had contacted him, and given him her phone number to give to me.
I had not spoken to her in 7 years.
I called her.
Nine years later, we are, to quote Forest Gump, like peas and carrots.
She’s been my sister.
She’s the person who gets me.
And I actually have to thank my ex-husband for this.
Of course I won’t call him and thank him personally.
But his wife can do it for me.
Since I know she reads this blog religiously.
Why wouldn’t she? I’d totally read her blog if she had one, especially if she wrote about flatulence problems and general shit that I would totally give me the opportunity to say, “Oh my God! You were married to that? She’s got no class!”
I do too have class.
I’m thanking your husband for giving me the best gift ever: my best friend.
So shuddup and stop judging me.
Sheesh….some people just don’t know when to move on.