Carl and Jody

After close to two hours of catching up, bitching, and advice giving, I hung up the phone. I needed that. It had been awhile since we had a phone call like that. I was already nostalgic for the conversation that had just ended. I wondered when the next chat similar to the one that just passed would take place again. I have this tendency. (See entry: The Moment I Said It)

Our conversation was easy. Like it always was. Wait, like it always is. Was. Is? They happen so infrequently. I am not quite sure what to think.

We talked about theatre, film, music, boyfriends, work. We offered up advice to each other. We referenced just a bit of our past. We made each other laugh. We made each other think. We taught each other something. We listened. We made time for each other. We made each other happy.

Best friends are hard to find. They are few and far between. They can come and go so quickly. Sometimes, we don't even have a best friend. Sometimes, we settle for the most convenient best friend. Sometimes, only sometimes, do we reach a certain maturity within our friendships. A maturity gained through a history of experiences and growth together. When a friendship reaches this level, we can always fall right back into our groove, for lack of a better word.

I'll try to curb my nostalgia for the conversation that passed. I won't be upset with the length of time that may pass between this and the next conversation. I won't hold anything against you anymore. I will try to put aside my expectations. I will cherish the times we spend together. I will be grateful for the history we share only. I will be your best friend. I will call you mine.

"I think everything good is attained through simplicity. I think that's why when you're all fucked up, they say you have a complex."
--Carl in Lonely Planet by Steven Dietz