I met my best adult friend on a park bench bordering the National Mall while taking a break from our kickball game one hot August afternoon. She likes to say I was “sizing her up” (Apparently an MO of sorts before determining someone to be befriendable). A week or two later, our relationship blossomed over a night of crab dip, a chain-smoked pack of Marlborough lights and more than one bottle of Pinot Noir.* The friendship was sealed over the impulse purchase of airline tickets that would take us on a New Year’s adventure through Paris, Amsterdam and ringing in 2010 surrounded by kilts, whiskey and Scottish brogues in Edinburgh. .

I don’t know what she saw in me initially - but I saw in her a social, sarcastic, intelligent, independent woman adjectives I would eventually discover to be horrifyingly inadequate.

Its been quite the year for both of us. For me, its been a year of rebuilding, self discovery and above all, friendship. For her its been a year spent regaining her voice, making tough choices and landing on her feet.

I’ve held her hand during a nerve wracking medical procedure, she held my hand while I got a tattoo. She wheeled my crippled ass through Charles De Gaul airport and enjoyed the advantages afforded too a handicapped individual and their escorts. We’ve danced at rock concerts, shared the most honest opinions and the snarkiest of comments, hugged after romantic disappointment, yelled over misunderstandings, cried at movies, hashed and then rehashed the absurdities of life, scoffed at the impossible and consumed more mimosas and filthy martinis than I dare count.

A friend knows everything about you and loves. you. anyway. She loves me in spite of my aversion to traveling to her local venues in Old Town, my chronic lateness, the painfully slow pace at which I read books, my incessant need to fill a silence, my routine deletion of at least 75% of the pictures she takes of me, my ability to completely demolish a hotel room within 5 minutes of check-in, my thoughtlessness, my big mouth, my love of the outdoors & camping, my tendency to over-share, my horrific singing voice on road trips and my obsession with all things Harry Potter.

She’s a musician. She’s a teacher. She’s a student. She’s dedicated and fiercely loyal to her friends. She keeps secrets. She calls it like she sees it. She doesn’t smile until the P.M. hours. She’s known both abuse and loss and has come out stronger on the other side. She knows when to walk away. She has performed her original music at the legendary CBGBs. She loves horror movies but hates being scared. She’s up for anything as long as it doesn’t involve sleeping in the great out of doors. “Drinks? yes!” “Oysterfest, sure!” “Edinburgh via Amsterdam & Paris - why not!?” She’s, in equal measure, a lover of Opera and Ani Difranco. She’s unapologetic. She may take time to warm up to you but you’ll find that time well spent. She has a temper to rival that of any redhead. She has a guitar shaped tattoo on her shoulder. She hates eggs. She refuses to waste her time on people who “aren’t worth it”. She has an uncanny radar to detect the insincere, the hypocritical and the duplicitous and summarily shuns all such offenders. She prefers Converse All Stars to Vans. She has no idea how beautiful she is on both the inside and out. 

She’s my Bestie and for that I am grateful.