For you

A post about my best friend:

I called her to tell her that I had cancer - not only because I wanted to tell her, but also so that I could practice telling my brothers.

When I had cancer the first time, she came to visit me - and she brought me earrings.

We used to walk to Hebrew School together - three times a week.

We used to ask Mrs. Bernstein if we could practice reading Hebrew in the hall because, "it's really hard to concentrate in here."

Mrs. Bernstein either didn't speak very good English, or just wanted to get rid of us.

I took Ballroom Dancing as a mini-course, but she didn't, so I taught her how to swing dance in the hall when we were supposed to be practicing our Hebrew.

Mrs. Bernstein caught us.

We had our bat mitzvahs on the same weekend.

We played with her mom's make-up.  (My mom only used boring foundation and lipstick.  Her mom's bathroom was the cosmetics counter at Marshall Field's.)

She was the first person I called when my dad died.

Once we spent an entire day on her couch watching The Real Housewives of Washington D.C.  Her husband went to the deli to buy us provisions.

While binge watching RHOWDC we also scoured the internet until we found an article about our favorite Chicago bus driver from thirty years ago, who drove us to school every day (if we caught the right bus), and who was honored after years of service.

Our fathers both worked on LaSalle Street.

During sleepovers, my dad used to come into my room when we were gabbing late at night and ask us, "How is there so much to talk about?!"

We still talk nonstop.

She is still and always my best friend.