I
withdrew away from everyone
last year, and I buried myself in my work and a
lover -- both of which, in the end, were burying me. I think I knew
he was my
best friend the afternoon I called him for an assignment, not meaning to talk to anybody
for any length of time because I was so engaged in my
turning away from the world.
But talk he did, and talk back I did, and
laugh and laugh and laugh. It was then, when I
walked away, smiling, hours later --
we'd spent hours even though we only
lived minutes away -- and realized I hadn't smiled so much in weeks.
It was when he stuck by me still, and encouraged me through every single one of the
hard,
hard steps it took me to get out of that
hole I had dug for myself, and
listened with interest to every detail I didn't have the
swap space to sort out in my own
head, to the point where I needed to dump it out into his ... When he let me nap in his
room because I just needed a place and still couldn't go
home ... When I realized he
was making time to go walking with me every week when his
girlfriend was giving him
hell for not spending enough time on her...
And that's the
wonderful thing about him, that every single day he makes for me a new
moment when I realize all over again that he is my
best friend. That, in the end --
that is how I know.
He's the only thing I've met so far too dear to
take for granted.