Today I had lunch and hung out with one of my dearest friends in the world. She has a five-month-old baby and we hadn’t seen each other very much since the baby, (or my babies, for that matter!) it’s been a long time since we’ve been able to hang out on a regular basis. We lived together for a few years before I met Steve, and by far she’s the best roommate I’ve ever had – and I miss sharing her closet and her bed. Before you jump to conclusions – go head, jump, why don’t you? – I’m a huge slob and when my bed was too covered in clothes, I would go sleep in Julie’s room. I still ask her if she’d like to spoon every chance I get.
We were sitting on my front stoop talking and watching my girls get along for once in their lives, and I started thinking about the best kinds of friendships. The ones where you don’t see each other for four months, but you talk as if not one day has passed. The best friends are the ones who are friends regardless of your finances, your weight, or the fact that you would some days choose wine and cheese over your family. A true friend will love you for all of those things and will not pass judgment when you talk about your marriage, your job or, when, in the middle of lunch, your daughter announces that her “butt is like garbage.”
Our lives have changed immensely from our days at the LaBobbi, which was the name of our apartment complex – and also the entire reason we chose to live there. We no longer have the luxury of time in our friendship. Time to shop, time to sleep, time to decide over brunch to get a tattoo that day, or even time to fight over who got the couch and who got stuck with the big chair during lazy Saturday afternoon TV marathons. What hasn’t changed throughout the years are the things that matter the most – oh, and also that if I asked Julie to sleep in her bed, I’m certain she would scoot over for me. Her husband? I’m not so sure.