We are approaching the end of a year of thirties. A few next month, and then we are all at that point. Thirty. Miss WL always seemed near the end, of the birthdays. I had a hard time, thinking of myself as thirty, and now, thinking of WL as thirty.
I did not write much the last birthday I spent with WL, but it is hard to imagine my life without WL. (I did, however, write about WL shortly before she moved to Seattle.) And often, I am caught off guard, by the fact that she lives only a few miles away. We have been through just about it all. WL moved to Rosemount in first grade. She was in my homeroom class, but then moved to another. So I suppose I met her then, twenty-three years ago. But, best friends in fourth grade. In the nerdy sense. We skipped recess together, to write. Short stories. Dramatic short stories about best friends. Distraught by moving. Or car wrecks. Drama. We struggled through middle school. Which involved silent treatments. Notebooks filled with rumors and horrible judgements. Girls vying for attention. We took the same classes in high school, always fairly competatively. I always remember being competative with WL. We had hard times. We wet to college. And moved to different towns.
But now, for two years, we have lived in the same town. A bit farther away than a corn field, but still a short distance. Sometimes, I forget how much I need WL. How well she knows me. But, I know that when I remember, when I really need her, she is here. And I love her. She is one of the most intellegent, thoughtful people that I have ever met. She is aware. Of herself, and of others. And the world. It all. All at once. Which is one of the hardest things ever. And she does it all with a smile. And understanding.
As she turns thirty, I am so thankful for the twenty-three I have been able to share with her. She has brought so much to my life.
Happy Thirty, WL.

