Since November is the season of thankfulness, I’ve tried to give that some thought lately.
Of course, I’m thankful for all the normal stuff; Jesus, my kids, hub, yogurt and so forth. I’m sure my food related list alone could go on for days. And then there’s books and favorite shows… plus all the traditional, Thansgivingy stuff like the cornucopia, pre-Black Friday carb loading… pretty much everything, except cinnamon brooms.
One thing that’s always close to the top of my list, but tied with coffee, is my besties, my homies and all of my Be Fri…es.
I feel blessed and lucky to have the friends that I do.
I have original besties, some of which I picked up in or before kindergarten and still managed to hang on to through high school graduation. These people know my family. They know that this poster…
used to hang in my room, that it was covering a Michael W. Smith poster, and that that was probably a lateral move in cheesiness.
I have college besties, that are also dear and special folks… I know that those friendships sharpened me, even though a lot of what I remember just makes me laugh… like the time I gave one of my college besties a big hug, not expecting our ponytails to then be hooked together, or when I tossed a grape to a bestie who assured me that she could catch it in her mouth… which led to a Heimlich maneuver, grape launch worthy of a sitcom, at least on the Disney channel.
Now, I even have grown up besties; my church ladies, neighborhood mamas and PTA peeps encourage me daily. They bring a joy to my journey that I couldn’t get by without.
and let’s see, best for last, 2 besties who share 1/2 my dna, but don’t have wide hips or poor math skills, my awesome brothers!
I’m sure that if you’re an only child reading this, you probably could list a whole lotta reasons that being an only is the coolest. I wouldn’t know. I have two older brothers, and I kind of dig coming in third in that lineup.
I’m sure that I’m a lot more thankful for my brothers now that I’m a grown up… and we all have dishwashers, and don’t live together, than I was as a kid… early in my writing career, when I penned the woeful tale of Beccarella and the Evil Non-Step Brothers, an unpublished short story that was very well received by the other children in my third grade class on read aloud day.
My brothers might have called the window seats and made me ride on the hump in the back of our buick… mostly always, maybe buried my Cabbage Patch Kid up to its little head, so that it did look like she was growing in the garden, and possibly put my ceiling fan on high, shut it off at the wall and loaded the blades with My Little Ponies and Strawberry Shortcake mini figurines. Whose didn’t?!
I think I learned to hold my own pretty well, and it turns out that I didn’t mind being pigeon holed into always being Daisy Duke or Princess Leia. I might not have gotten to always choose which channel we watched, like I would have if I’d been an only, but I got two lifelong besties, who could give me a kidney, if I ever needed it…
… and I did get the big room!