So my best friend is nagging me to update my blog because she… doesn’t really know me inside and out already? She’s walking a very dangerous line seeing as she flies out to visit us on Saturday, and if I really wanted to be mean I could just leave her at Logan Airport all alone.

But it really is good timing – her nagging, that is – because I’m overdue on writing a post about my best friends. Before you go all off and label my blog CheeseFest 09, think about your best friend and the time that they let you soak their t-shirt with your tears after driving to their house in the middle of the afternoon when you were seriously contemplating driving your car into a tree because the first person you had ever really truly loved had decided he was just not that into you. Ok, think about that moment, and cry, and realize that blogging about your best friends is SO a drop in the bucket considering all they’ve done for you.

I’ve been lucky enough to grow up right next to two of my best friends, my sisters. They were my evil, hatred-wielding nemeses (nemesi?) while I was a youngin, but as soon as I came of age by driving 14 hours away from home to go to college in a place God forgot about, they became my best friends. The secret you learn at that age is that your sisters are people who will protect you even after you’ve tried to shove them out of a second-story window while dropping the F bomb five inches from their face. No matter what, they’ve got your back. And will never ever judge you.

So I have these two sisters, my best friends, who have become more and more best-friendy the older we get because we find more and more in common, and also strangely become a bit more like our mother in the end. They always tell it to me just like it is, never mincing words or,  more importantly, truth.

Kiki, my other best friend, became my best friend in college – days we are both incredibly embarrassed of – I spinning Eminem CDs, and she wearing Abercrombie. We were the Odd Couple and it worked out remarkably well because we could find middle ground on being raised in similar families and our mutual love of cats. She also had a brother that I had the hots for – a man who looks exactly like a young Phil Collins. She also never minced words or the truth with me.

I think the night I realized the power of that phenomenon was the night the four of us spent together in a hotel room preparing for the following day when I’d become Matt’s wife. They each understood the weight of this commitment for anyone, let alone me. And that night they all committed to me that they would never EVER let me walk away from this marriage. They loved me and they loved Matt enough to say that when the going gets tough, I should call them, whine and complain, and then swiftly be reminded why he’s the man of my dreams.

To me, that’s the greatest thing a best friend could ever do. To hold me to something difficult and challenging just because they know it will be good for me. Thank you, my three sisters, my three best friends. You are molding me into the woman you always believed I could be.

And if you’re looking for a best friend… look here, mkay?

This entry was posted on Monday, February 9th, 2009 at 8:35 pm and is filed under Marriage, friends. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.