It is lonely, ever so slightly, to not have a best friend. Don't get me wrong, I have lots of wonderful friends. My husband rolls his eyes every morning as he heads out the door because the phone almost always rings right at 8 o'clock, someone looking for me, to chat over coffee and start the day.
I have friends I trust and friends that make me laugh and friends that let me cry and friends that hold me and friends that push me and friends that have known me for half my life. Many of them are relatively new friends, but they are all wonderful.
But I don't have a best friend, or more precisely, a best girlfriend. That woman who knows you inside and out, even upside down. The one who knows your biggest fears and most secret jokes. The person who you see and, without even thinking about it, lower all your pretenses and defenses, the friendship that you just sink into so it can envelope you and in many ways, become a part of you. Somehow along the way of graduating from college, working, getting married, having kids, moving around and leaving the workforce, I've lost many friends. And I lost my best friend.
I know it's probably just the natural progression of time, growth and distance combined. Some things grow together, others grow apart. Part of me wonders at my flaws, that somehow I've destroyed something great through a series of errors and missteps worthy of the Three Stooges. Either way, or even a combination of stooge-i-ness and time, there's no going back. For good or ill, my best friend of old is no longer mine. And while I am sure I will eventually have another, that relationship will always be exceptional.
Every now and then, from time to time, moments come across when I just want to pick up the phone and hear one particular voice and be buried in all the overwhelming memories, comforts and pains that go with it...