Homegirl

Many years ago, when I was a baby librarian fresh off the librarian vine, my first job was as a teen services librarian in the local branch just a few blocks from my house. I walked to work every day like I was in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood or some shit; it was the greatest. One day there was a meeting of a few other librarians of the same ilk as me (you got ilk?) in a nearby coffee shop, and one of those librarians was one even newer than me. All I remember about this little librarian zygote that day was that I thought “that lady seems smart” and also “that lady has a way cute haircut.” It is a hazy memory. Over the years since, that librarian and I have floated in the same patch of air, sometimes working on stuff together, sometimes attending parties of mutual friends, sometimes having each other over for dinner. There was a short period a few years ago where she lived on the same street as me, and during that time we would go on walks after work. I went to her wedding, she became a mom, I changed jobs, I lost my dad. There was no event, no particular day that stands out in my mind as “ah, that’s when we really became true buds,” but week after week, month after month, I just loved her more and more. I really don’t know how it happened because usually my friendship stories are ones that have a falling-in-love moment. I knew I was in love with Biogirl when we had a date that ended up being ten hours long including two meals, a movie, and staying up past midnight talking. I fell in love with Alli watching her sing to herself on the bus the first day of kindergarten without ever having talked to her once. I fell in love with Map when she showed up to Mr. Menard’s history class wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and undies in defiance of our no-shorts-at-school policy. But this one? It happened early but I don’t know exactly when, and now she is a person I talk to just about every day, and when I don’t, I miss her. She sends me texts and/or emails that make me cry-laugh on the regular and she listens to my BS no matter what it is and treats it like it’s a mothershucking Ted Talk every time. And over the years we have either gotten more and more alike as our friendship has changed us, or we were twinsies this whole time and we were discovering it layer by layer. Either way, our brains are pretty much melded at this point. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not kick it with her. That girl is my homey right there. Like, for super serious.

Last week was her birthday, and we went out for a fancy dinner on Friday night to celebrate, and then went to trill out the jams via karaoke times on Saturday. It just got me thinking how thankful I am to call her my friendcess. Here’s a few reasons she is awesome.

As when I met her, her haircut is still the cutest.

She has impressive gif-sending game.

We agree on sort of everything, but yet she still teaches me new stuff, which is a weird trick.

She has the best WUT face of anyone I know. Like, if I say “YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS ONE” and then say something dumb and pass it off like it’s news as I am wont to do because I can be dramatic, she will bug out and say “WUTTTTTT” in a most satisfying manner. This is an important friendship skill.

She will argue with me about which one of us loves Emma Thompson more.

She always has mints and shares them. They are locally made mints. One time she was considering moving out of state and she told me that one of the cons on her pro/con list was that they wouldn’t have her mints in the new city.

She got in my face with aggressive kindness when my dad died. I’ll never forget it, never ever.

She’s just the goddamn best, that one. My homegirl. Love her.

Advertisements

2 comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s