Home Is Where The Heart Is

My best friend and I, we’ve known each other since we were a year old. We lived in different counties. We went to different schools. We would randomly run into each other, sometimes going years without seeing one another, and it would be like no time had passed. A series of random events later, and we are thick as thieves once more.

About a year ago, she moved to Colorado with her husband. We talk at least once every day, and sometimes several times a day. Although… On occasion we can’t stand each other. We’ll go two or three days without talking. That’s mostly me. I’m introverted. She’s extroverted. It’s exhausting. She never lets it get past four days. Something, apparently, is wrong then. I, myself, will get into a creative fog and disappear for weeks on end, if she’d let me.

We shared an apartment for several months, until I got knocked up and moved back home. It wasn’t uncommon to find us sitting in silence, and perfectly happy to do so. As a matter of fact, when I call her on my lunch break every day we typically sit on the phone in silence, sending Pins back and forth, and giggling.

Cosmic Twins, her mother calls us, because neither set of parents could handle both of us at once. It’s a prettier name than Platonic Soulmates, which is how we usually define ourselves. We are very connected to each other in a way that’s difficult to explain. She’s my home as much as my house is. She’s more family than some of my blood relations. She’s my Luvey.

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