little laura lu

This is the girl who introduced me to Grease, tacos, Swedish Fish and badminton — the finer things in life. This is the girl who has made me laugh so hard I actually peed my pants; who occasionally tormented me with fireflies and salamanders; who taught me it was OK to be myself — to be the spastic, blabbering, know-it-all dork that I always have been — and she loved me anyway. My original "long-distance relationship" started when I left New Hampshire (and Laura) and moved to Georgia at age 13. Laura and I wrote each other letters, in the days before email, and spent our parents money on lengthy long-distance phone calls, in the days before cell phones. We even shared the same awful haircut for a short period of time (reference photo at top). Since 1994, I've had the unparalleled comfort of knowing that, no matter what, rain or shine, hell or high water, beyond any shadow of a doubt, Laura would always be there for me.

Three weeks ago, she went to the ER because she was experiencing severe back pain. A few days later, she was told there was a small tumor in her brain. She had a successful surgery last Friday, and they were able to remove most of the tumor. It will be another week until the results of the biopsy come in.

As with all my closest friends, I'm guilty of not telling her often enough how much I appreciate her friendship. I don't tell her enough how much I love her, how much she made adolescence bearable, how many of my happiest childhood memories involve her, how I'm grateful for her astonishing capacity to listen to me (even when I'm sick of hearing myself talk).

I'm heading to Boston in a few hours to see her. I'm always excited to visit, but this time I can't wait to give her a too-long, too-tight hug. And to tell her that I'm grateful to know her, grateful for the shared memories that come with fourteen years of friendship and grateful for what I know will be her speedy return to perfect health.