My parents are my best friends. These days I deal with the impulse of moves that dot my history like a Greyhound on the midnight milk run. The wreckage of which, if nothing else, is true friendship. Yes I am fully responsible for said erratic behavior and in turn have come to grips with its effect on my current situation. That is with the exception of true tangible friendship. Having young kids I knew my adjustment period would be prolonged but 2 years is a little ridiculous. And although I have forged some rather hopeful bonds here with some beautiful people alas when I have trivial information to bounce there is no one immediate person there. So I rush to the phone to call which ever parent still has the patience to listen. I have even resorted to having some trivial adult conversations with my kids..dog…and yes, the guinea pig. My soul mates are still out there, and you know who you are, but they are now very busy with their own husbands and kids or lives. Don’t cry for me Canada. As I settle and let my guards down I am sure my future friends will find me. But tonight, as I am thankful for my parents, I remember the times with those few who loved me all the way knowing who I truly was and forgiving my faults and just being real.
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