Monday, October 28, 2013


I had a very, shall we say, "protected" childhood. I was born and raised in the same town, in the same house, with the same neighbors and friends until I left for college. I always knew who was who in the social structure around me.

So when I went to college with my best friend, I was flummoxed by people who didn't act or react like all the people that I had ever known. I didn't adapt well to new stuff. Somewhere in my brain it was suppose to stay the same no matter where I was.

And when I tried to get people to act like I thought they should act (in my little world) I was stunned that they didn't. 

Self-centered? Yeah.

Naive? You betcha!

Frightening? Oh, yeah.

But I learned, eventually, that I was not the center of the earth (I am still a little off-center) and that all those other people had stories to tell and places that had molded them.

And through it all, I had a friend.

Someone who was always there when I needed a voice or a shoulder or a "talking to ".

She still calls me "Gizzy" and she still laughs with me.

She remembers how I acted that horrible first year in college because she was there and was the bright and shining light that kept me attached to the ground.

Today, I called her. Just to say "hi" and to tell her what my latest blood tests had revealed. Nothing serious but a call to lose the weight and get my big keester off the chair.

I have never laughed so hard about dieting.

If there is one thing that marks our relationship, it is laughter. My mother (and hers) would always have to tell us to knock it off and go to sleep when we stayed at each other's house.

My husband will tell you that if I am on the phone and giggling I am talking to Vicki.

So today, as usual, she was there for me and, well, I just wanted to thank her.

Vicki, I love you!

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