So, I was poke-hunting today, with one of my oldest friends and her daughter. FYI, I am a horrible person to have around your kid. Even if I try my very best, I will keep using phrases like “I’m so screwed,” or “fuck off” all the time. The second I say it, I realize how wrong that is of me, since my friend is trying to teach her daughter not to, but oh my… I guess I should clean up my act in general. Hanging with a kid really makes you see yourself in a new light.
Also, I am pretty dangerous to play Pokemon Go with, because I forget to look up when I cross the street, or to stop at red lights… Again, not the best thing to learn a kid. Sometimes I have no idea why my friend lets me hang around her daughter.
But, that is not what this post is about. No, I guess it is about friendship. It is such a weird thing. I guess it really is magic…
As we were driving home today, we spoke off a house on the road, where a family was murdered back in the 1970ties, by an ax murderer who was never found. As we were both slightly enthralled by the story of the house, we instantly agreed that we would not want to live there. And not because we were afraid of some maniac with an ax.
No, we both thought of the vengeful spirits in that house.
That is one of those funny moments, where you look at your friend and think, “she is just as crazy as me,” and somehow you realize why she is your best buddy. Not because she lets me hang around her kid, or because we have known each other for 20 years, or because we play music and pokemon together. Not because she is the one I can call late at night and ask to sew me a costume for gishwhes, or because she always respected that my horses were my babies. No, this one is my friend because we just think alike.
I don’t come across a lot of those moments, usually I keep people at a distance somewhat, but this was absolutely a moment for me, that defines who we are and why we have stuck with each other for 20 years.
I guess that was the one good thing that came out of my brief time in the school system. I got to know her. Even if it took me 20 years to realize just how special she is to me, and why. It is the funniest things that suddenly makes you see things clearly.
And maybe I should tell her, instead of writing about her here, but that is not who I am, and hell… she knows.
Damn it, Veronica, don’t say hell. Or damn it.
Damn it. I’ll go away now.