I have no idea how my mind works, or why it works in peculiar places. I never know when some crazy theory will pop into my head and no idea what triggers it. I guess I should just be grateful that it I still have an occasional creative moment and not over analyze the situation.
As I pulled into the garage yesterday, a rote like endeavor, a clue to my thinking process. I get a lot of my best ideas while driving familiar routes that don’t demand constant attention. Perhaps, I don’t really need an office to write, just a limousine and a driver. Why I picked this particular moment to converse with G-D about crime and punishment I do not know. I am always looking for an answer to the age-old question, “Must we be perfect to get into heaven, or will he be taking our whole life into account?” pretty deep for a walk from my car to the elevator.
While G-D and i were having this conversation, a much more interesting thought popped into my head. Who really knows how we’ve lived our lives? Not our parents, who believe they know us best and do not hesitate to remind us of our every mistake. But they are really clueless about our life, and that is as it should be.
Certainly not our children, there are whole parts of our lives that are hidden from them, again as it should be. If you are pondering this one just think back to when you first had sex and realized this was how you came to be, eeew!
It was just at this point, somewhere between the second and third floor, it came to me. The one person who knows everything you have done right or wrong! Your BFF, the one who has known you since Junior High School and even if you live three thousand miles from her, she knows everything. The good, the time you volunteered your bone marrow even though you were terrified. The bad, the time you bought a dress, wore it to a party and then returned it, shame on you. And the ugly, that hair and those clothes from the eighties. She has seen you at your best, your wedding, your first child, your first home.
All the happiness and all the tears, she saw you through divorce, some poor choices in men between husbands and watched how you treated your kids and her kids. She cried with you when your oldest left for college and rejoiced when the baby got into college. She waited out test results that time the doctor saw something in your x-ray.
She knew every issue you had with your Mother, and every argument with your kids, and certainly every fight with your husband. Even those with your “other friends”, and she always had your back even while thinking maybe, just maybe you were wrong.
She was there when you lost a parent or a sibling and she actually remembered those people when they were young. One of you will be there for the other when you lose your spouse because that is a given and hopefully you will sit side by side at your hundredth birthday party, gossiping about the clothes these kids are wearing now.
So, if indeed all lives are to be measured by a scale where hopefully the good out weighs the bad, your BFF will be the first witness you want called, when in the words of Albert Brooks you will be DEFENDING YOUR LIFE. As soon as you finish reading this blog and forwarding it to 200 of your closest friends, shut off your computer and call your oldest friend and catch up, as she will need all the pertinent facts, should she be called to testify.