The importance of a best friend

The other day at work I mentioned a friend in a conversation and my colleague turned to me and asked “Is she your best friend?”

It stopped me in my tracks.

I’ve been thinking a lot about best friends lately and how important – to 10-year-olds at least – it is to have a best friend.

I met my best friend at school at the age of 10. In years 6&7 we were inseparable. I’d go over to her house 2-3 times a week, we had sleepovers, secretly liked the same boys, played hopscotch, trampolining, elastics, and board games endlessly. We were both born in Canada. Her family Canadian, my family Australian (working abroad at the time). I went to Wave Rock with her family. She came to Rotto with mine.

She taught me how to riffle shuffle – a skill I enjoy to this day. I don’t think I taught her anything. Her dad would wake us up in the morning singing lougly:

Good morning to you
Good morning to you
Whatever the weather
We’ll face it together
In work or in play
a beautiful day!

Best Friends circa 1979

Note the similar fashion style, even similar hair! We’d have been around 12.

I remember on the way home, her dad stopped on the side of the road. A fox had been killed. I don’t know why he stopped – maybe to get the foxtail. He turned the dead animal over and I can still see to this day the teeming maggots, green and maroon.

Today we don’t see each other. We grew apart when she moved schools in Year 9 but kept in touch. She has moved to Vancouver with her husband and two boys. Maybe she reads this blog. I hope so.

If you’re reading girlfriend: Thank you for being a great best friend!