Connie is my best friend. She’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember. Yet I couldn’t tell you off the top of my head how many years it’s been. I can tell you it’s been since the 4th grade. I can tell you I knew her before I met her. Months before my mom moved us to the new town. I dreamed of a girl with no face. A girl I knew would be waiting for me in this new place. A girl I had known forever, before I’d ever laid eyes on her. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember the beginning of our friendship, because it had already started before we met.
So I don’t know of any one day to commemorate the start. Not like a birthday or an anniversary. There is no Happy Best Friend Day, although there definitely should be. I couldn’t even tell you how long we’ve been friends without counting backwards on my fingers. Course, I don’t think I have enough fingers or toes to count the years.
My point is, there isn’t an annual celebration for something that has been the most important thing throughout my life. My one constant, the one thing I’ve always trusted, the one thing I know to be true. And there is no special day on the calendar? No hallmark card, no cake?
Maybe for something so certain, no dates are required, no reminder to be thankful, no need to celebrate. I think of her every day, I know she thinks of me. Even though we live across the country from each other, even though our lives have taken different paths, nothing has changed between us. Maybe that’s what forever is really all about. Maybe forever means you don’t need to keep track.