On Friends

The last week has been an interesting one for me, in terms of friends. Some I thought I had, I think maybe I don't. Some I didn't think I would get, I maybe have. And some have shown up, unsought, but so welcome. I said a few posts ago that I don't think I have a "best friend." I first said this to a friend (who has and claims a best friend, which I love for her), on a gorgeous fall day, as we wound along the road somewhere between Washington D.C. and Williamsburg, and I've thought a lot about it since then, and I've worried about it. What did I mean? Do I sound insensitive to the people I am lucky enough to call friend? Do I need a best friend? What happened to the friends I used to categorize as "best?" It may sound insensitive, yes, and for that: I'm sorry. As for what happened: time and distance, a shift in lives, movement, miles, nothing more. Also, this: I don't think I need a best friend, or to claim one. I'm selective now (perhaps a little cautious). If you are in my life, and I call you friend, that's enough for me. It means enough to me. I have people whom I call friend that I have known nearly my entire life. They are part of me, sprinkled through my memories; what more is there?  I love my friends; how deeply depends on time alone, but I love them equally.

I find myself humbled by the people who claim me as friend. By those amazing, beautiful, wonderful men and women who allow me into their lives. I am grateful for old friendships, as comfortable as breathing. I am grateful for new friendships, the reshaping of my life to accommodate them, because it means I'm alive. I am grateful for friends who I am still getting to know, for the adventure and magic that comes with that. I am grateful for those friends who have come and gone, for all these reasons and because I've been transformed by them.

My sisters, Sara, Megan, Molly, you -- and you alone -- I will claim as best, because ours is eternal. I love you.

One needs friends, and thank Heaven, I have them.