Best of Friends

Posted on | January 12, 2016 | No Comments

Mornings are hectic in our house.

Banks works an hour away so he has to get up earlier than he’d like and of course getting a six year old dressed and ready is like herding cats. Sometimes I feel like my life during the week is just me, spinning in circles, holding a mug of coffee and hoping for the best.

This morning started like pretty much any other. J got up and moseyed through getting dressed, I threw on clothes that mostly matched, and Banks was up and in the shower by 6:30. I started to go through the motions for breakfast and packing J’s lunch but somehow I ended up back in the bedroom, slowly brushing my hair as though it would suddenly wake me up and I’d be ready to face the working world. I was tired. I was cranky because it’s only Tuesday. I wasn’t feeling the whole “Go go go” thing that was Monday through Friday living. I was complaining about how rough things are… how busy we are… how much we have on our collective plates, and Banks was getting dressed.

Somehow my complaining switched gears to talking about a friend of mine who recently got married. She’d been calling a lot to try and do dinner and I’d been trying to find time in our schedule to make that work, and moaning and groaning about how busy I am and how hard life in general just IS sometimes. And that’s when Banks dropped one of those gems that just hits you right in the center and leaves you smiling for at least a day and a half.

“I feel sorry for her, though, because… you know… I don’t think her and her husband are like us.”

“Like us how?” I asked, still distractedly and semi-angrily brushing my hair.

“You know… they aren’t best friends like us.”

Best friends. Two words that sort of warmed me from the toes up. You know… the one you’re supposed to marry? The one that makes you laugh until you almost wet your pants but also is the first person you call when you just want to curl up in a ball and cry. The friend that is always there, always tells you the truth even or especially when you don’t want to hear it. My best friend.

How did I get this lucky? What did I do to deserve finding this guy… this one person who is all those things wrapped into one, plus also so much more?

I looked at him for a moment and realized he didn’t think he said anything profound. It was a given to him. It was who we are. We’re best friends. We’re partners. We’re husband and wife. It wasn’t a “deep thought” to him… it was just true.

I put down the brush and wrapped my arms around this man who absolutely and totally completes me and grinned.

“You’re right,” I smiled, giving him a light kiss. “Not everyone is as lucky as us.”

And suddenly, happily, this whole life thing seems infinitely brighter.


Why yes, we are rapping to 90s hiphop. Together. In formal wear.


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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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