Elizabeth
What is a best friend, anyway?
Maybe she’s the one you climbed trees with when you were six.
In your teens,
maybe you went ice skating with her on a Friday night,
Or “up town” with her on Saturday mornings.
Perhaps when you were twenty-one,
She was the one you danced with,
As if you were the extra members of Girls Aloud that they never really needed.
Maybe later you holidayed together to Gran Canaria,
Or was it Greece or Great Yarmouth (what happens on holiday, stays on holiday, right)?
In your thirties,
Maybe she was your Maid of Honour,
Perhaps she helped you move house.
Maybe you’re her kids’ godmother,
Maybe she walks your dog or feeds your cat when you’re in sunnier places.
Perhaps you meet for coffee on a Thursday,
Or every now and then you get dressed up and indulge in a bottomless brunch.
You maybe met at work,
Or at a yoga retreat,
She might be your neighbour, your sister, or she was your housemate many moons ago.
Maybe she lives on the other side of the Earth,
But the Whatsapp chat (which annoys everyone else)
keeps you close day and night.
Perhaps with her, you belly laugh and you sing and you dance….
She could be any of these things, but through all of this joy, all of this play -
She is your strength, she is your stay.
When it hurts the most and it’s so excruciatingly hard to bear,
She is always, always there.
Maybe she knows your childless pain, perhaps her story isn’t so different,
Or perhaps it is and maybe she doesn’t.
How does that matter? Why does that matter? Does it matter?
Because….
When your longed for little one is born sleeping,
When the IVF doesn’t work,
When the doctors tell you there’s nothing more and they don’t know why,
When the adoption social workers have gone.
When you know it’s time to STOP.
Your heart is broken into tiny shards,
But nothing to support you, for her, is too hard.
And when you have to decide,
She’s at that junction with you, right by your side.
No, she may not always agree with your choice,
But - she stills her voice.
As whatever you do, she is with you.
When you don’t have the words,
She waits, she waits.
She holds your hand, passes you a(nother) glass of wine,
And she waits.
And when you do have the words
She listens. She hears you. Before anyone else, she has heard.
When all you are is a puddle of tears on the bathroom floor,
She is the one holding your hand and guarding the door.
When you need to build a wall, she gives you space and hands you the bricks,
And when you need to smash it down, she’s ready with the hammer.
Your judge passing sentence, she is NOT
A ghost ignoring your pain, she is NOT
Your jailor stopping you feeling it all, she is NOT
She is a part of your armour in your battle
She is that single tiny match in the dark
She is the other side of your coin
She’s the Patsy to your Eddy,
The Monica to your Rachel,
The Tanya to your Rosie.
She is proud and brave,
She feels all the loss and the pain
She is You,
And You are Her.
She is your Best Friend.
Always.