My cousin, Leslie, is one of my best friends.
Leslie’s the one who was with Greg and me at the hospital when our twins came too soon. The labor and delivery nurse checked under my gown, swore like a sailor, and yelled to Leslie, “Come here! If you see a baby head, PULL THE RED CORD.” Then the nurse left to call in the disaster response team and get my doctor back from her son’s soccer game. And Leslie ogled my hoo-ha ’til the cavalry arrived.
Clearly, Leslie and I have quite the history.
But friendships are strange creatures. They ebb and they flow.
Sometimes, the same friends are there for years and years. They prop you up, keep you sane, and tell you which brand of bras give you maximum lift when your girls deflate post-breastfeeding.
Sometimes, the people to whom you’d like to remain closest drift away.
You just never know for sure what circumstances are going to pull you together or drive you apart.
The older I get, the more meaningful the small things become.
And this weekend, I shared a special moment with my cousin and friend, Ms. Leslie.
This is how I know we’ll be friends for a long, long, long, long, long, long, long time.
My bosom buddy for life.