A good friend is like going home after a hard day and changing into your old clothes and putting your feet up. It’s comfortable and it’s easy, and you don’t have to try anymore. You can tell her just about anything, and she’ll never tell anybody ever. She always has your back. Your good news is her good news, too. No matter how she’s doing, she’s glad when you get a promotion or a great haircut or another vacation. She catches your eye across crowded rooms just to remind you there’s solid ground under your feet. She calls you just to hear your voice, and, when you’re too sad or busy or tired to talk, she says that’s okay because it was just a buddy check anyway. She remembers things you did and said so many years ago that even you can’t remember them anymore. She makes you laugh even when you’d rather be mad or sulk. When you think your job or your health or your life will be black forever, she reminds you of the sprouts of hope you saw just last week. When taking the low road looks so easy, she reminds you that it’s only easy in the short run, and somehow the reminder leaves you feeling like the high road was your idea all along. One way or another, she’s alway talking you into being a better person than you ever thought you could be, because she sees that better person even before the fog clears. She’s sort of like breathing -- you couldn’t live without it, but you don’t think much about how nice it is to have oxygen. Maybe that’s why you usually don’t remember to thank good friends.
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