When you thank me for my friendship, what can I do but tear up a bit and try to hide my feelings behind my tomboyish pride? I want to reach out to you, hug you, hold you (like you did me when I needed you) as you climb this hill in your life.
I know that your soul was deeply invested in this, and I hurt with you even though you try to hide your hurt by asking me about my freelancing work and by telling me about school.
I’m proud of you for where you are and where you’re going. I’m proud to call you my friend. It’s people like you that I want at the dinner party in my dreams, where my most interesting and compassionate friends come together to celebrate life in all its grandiosity and tragedy.
When you thank me for my friendship, what can I do but tear up and try to hide my emotions beneath the layers of skirts that I wear over my heart like the women used to wear over their hips when women still wore skirts.
It makes me want to die streaks my hair and express the most personal and individualistic pieces of my self when I have conversations like this one.
But what can I do but store the inspiration away for a rainy day, and be glad that no one was there as I hung up the phone to see the sparkle in my eye when I realized that after all we’ve been through, you hold me as close to your heart as I do you to mine?