AJ and I are that particular kind of old, old friends that talk rarely, but with great affection. She achieved Bestie status over a decade ago, and pretty much gets to keep it forever cause that's how I roll. Though we only chat now and then, if she showed up at my door in the middle of a midnight rainstorm I'd wrap her in a blanket and put the kettle on without a single word.
Do you have any very old, very dear friends like that?
AJ and I met and tumbled into mutual fascination at a summer camp for, shall we say, inspired teenagers. It was a strange, magical time, when all the normal rules of teenager misery flew out the window and we poured truth and trauma out into the laps of our fellows and when we lit candles, every single one seemed to be a secret promise: that the magic would be there always, if we really needed it. She would sit behind me in the talking room as we all reveled in shared support and vulnerability, braiding my ridiculously long, thick hair. She was one of the few people in the world I allowed to touch it.
AJ has always been one of the coolest people I know. Smart, authentic, down-to-earth. Most of all, she had her shit together and as we grew up, she became my paragon of shit-together-having. Even if that was mostly in my mind, she was the helpful bracelet on my wrist when I thought: What would a Proper Grown-Up do?
She'd likely regard my starry-eyed admiration with amusement, maybe a little exasperation. I always did get carried away! But that's what I adore about her: she called me on my shit. She was the steady earth under my feet and one of the first people who could shake their head and tsk at my shenanigans, but not begrudge me too much. Most of all: she's one of the only people that I can honestly say has seen me at my worst, and loved me anyway.
Friends like that are precious as a perfect summer's day.