Judith was my best friend in high school. We did everything together, told each other everything, even dated two guys who were best friends.
She got married young, while I was still in college and that, combined with the fact that I moved abroad, meant that we grew apart and lost contact.
For over 25 years, we didn’t speak or write.
When I moved home, I tracked her down and sent her an email. We met up for coffee and, amazingly, it was as though nothing had changed.
We’ve been fast friends ever since. We meet for drinks and we talk and always, always, always, she cheers me up when I’m feeling down, gives me perspective when I’ve lost mine, and makes me see myself and my actions in a much better light than I feel they deserve.
I was 15 when I picked Judith as my best friend and I chose wisely even then, somehow knowing that her straightforward, wise, kind and steadfast nature was just the antidote to my flighty, flaky and uber-emotional personality.
Tonight I texted and told her that.
She wrote back:
“Oh I love you so much. You make me feel wise when I’m really not. You’re a wonderful, clever, gorgeous lady. I just wish you knew that.”
“But you ARE wise … I just wish you knew that!”
There she is telling me that I don’t know the good things about myself and all the while denying her own amazing qualities.
(I looked really hard in the mirror tonight. I can’t see what she sees, but I’m so glad she can).