Happy Belated Birthday (to my best friend)

So, um, Allison’s birthday was yesterday. That was the day I meant to post this:

Dear Allison,
I’ve had quite a number of friends in my life. But (and I’m sorry that this is a Disney song) I have never had a friend like you. Most of my friends that I made that long ago turned out to be jerks in the end, which of course, you already know. Given my bad track record, it’s interesting that we even became friends at all.

Of course, we didn’t start out that way. We started out as nemeses. You trying out for the same parts I wanted in high school productions, both of us losing them to people who had no business wearing red jumpers. Then you joined my class and we positioned ourselves with our backs against couches and our eyes darting around to make sure we were safe, from the rest of them, but also from each other. No one could really be trusted. I’m not sure when things started to change, probably around the time when we were working together to scare that Mormon boy about packing our hampers and the Indian rade of Oklahoma, but I’m really glad they did.

Then college came, after the summer of baseball games and late nights, and things got especially wonderful. Our lives were ridiculous, of course. Lots of stupidity that only seventeen-year-old college students can have…boyfriends and rugby houses and dorm rooms and drama (not the organized kind by that point, just the stuff of reality tv).

College went and you came to live with me and you suffered through some crap jobs that paid bills and we’d come home from work to get into the hairy pool, only to drag our butts out of bed the next day and do it all again, wondering what the next step should be.

Somewhere in there I realized that I couldn’t loose you now. I will never want to forget how good at being my friend you are…there was Halloween in 97, there was the adventure of 99 (even if it wasn’t in the same place as my adventure), there were those pictures with my dog and the pretending you lived in my room, all of the listening to my problems and caring about their outcome, that time warp in Ohio and walking all over DC a few days later, all of the times you were strong for me, but especially in 2001 when I needed a friend like I never have before, that time you washed the stinky broccoli pot in 2002, and the day you stood next to me in 2004 after you gave me the gift that hangs in our home making me think of you every day, when you wore a feather boa and we took NoDoz together in North Dakota, and that Monday night when we made chicken picatta in 2005 and the very sad goodbye last year with a couple of drinks and lots of tears.

Neither of us got a sister in the whole family deal, but I’d rather have it this way, I think. I get all of the good stuff — someone to listen to me and someone to listen to, a person who I believe is the most talented artist in the world (don’t make some overly humble statement here, because your work haunts me and warms me and brings me emotion like no other art has ever done), a person who is funny enough to banter with the best of them, whose writing makes my sides and face hurt, whose phone calls make me smile and who I can’t stop talking about.

I know our lives are lot different than they were when we met ten years ago and I know they will be a lot different ten years from now. But I also know that you will always mean the world to me.

Happy Birthday, Allison. I love you.

Here’s your delicious birthday cake: