A Tribute

     I grew up with two best friends. This is not unusual. What is unusual is that they were my nieces. This is a complicated concept to explain to people. Generally I leave out the fact that they are related to me when I mention them to people who don't know my family. That brings up all sorts of questions about my siblings and my family and we forget the original topic. But growing up with your best friends being related to you means that at every family reunion your best friends are going to be there also. It means boring weddings, long adult conversations, and ghastly food can be made a little bit better because you are hoarding mints, exploring church basements, and hiding food in places that you hope will never be discovered (like under tablecloths). My earliest memories involve arguing, playing, exploring, and discussing things with my two best friends. Our family discusses everything, every family reunion involves some sort of "discussion" about politics or religion...the more controversial the better. When I was five I tried to explain a complicated theological term to my 4 & 3 year old best friends. This was just a precursor for things to come. We grew up imitating the adults and yet determined to do our thing. We were each other's biggest fans and greatest critics. Together we conquered mountains (the woods behind their house and the attic in my house) and confronted our mortal enemies (their terrifying neighbors and the cows behind my house). We told ghost stories, yet jumped over the spot where we saw a mouse when we were toddlers. We shared our deepest secrets, stalked people, wrote volumes of letters, built forts, conducted church services, wrote stories, put on plays, and signed up my neighbor for random mailings. We survived multiple moves (sometimes across the country), arguments that threatened the very core of our friendship, and several attempts at blowing things up.
     I am a leader today because as the oldest of our pack they followed me, expecting me to come up with the crazy plans. I think things through today because any idea we came up with was discussed from every angle, every possibility was considered. I take risks today because they encouraged me to keep going, dared me to best my last idea, thought, or accomplishment. I am loyal today because I considered it my duty to protect them from any sort of (real or perceived) threat. I am creative today because they encouraged my ridiculous attempt at writing a "masterpiece". I can defend myself today because of our countless arguments. I am well-read today because we read and critiqued every book we could get our hands on. I am competitive today because we each strained to be the best at everything (writing, collecting books or CDs, or having the most amazing dollhouses). I can negotiate today because we traded much dollhouse furniture and then got mad because we each felt we didn't get the fair end of the deal.
      Our dynamics were not unique to us, yet they were because they were "us". Jenn and I argued constantly, both of us wanting to be the "mom", the "leader", the "teacher". Courtney was our liason, the voice of reason when my ideas and Jenn's excitement threatened life and limb.When we were separated for arguing when we were very young, Courtney went back and forth between Jenn and I until we were on speaking terms once more. Jenn and I laid on the couch pretending we had "every disease in the world", while commanding Courtney to get our drinks and toys. Jenn and I decided to send a newsletter to a thousand random people and when many of them became angry with us, Courtney was gracious enough not to say I told you so. Jenn and I found an epic place for a fort in the woods and when we tried to show Courtney, we couldn't find it (fourteen years later, she still doesn't believe us). Jenn and I decided to become "TV talk show hosts" and Courtney filmed our "shows" and later the three "movies" this idea spawned. More than once Courtney's level-headedness got Jenn and I out of scrapes all three of us created.
     When I was sixteen we decided that rather than have to choose who was going to be the maid of honor (and who was going to be a lowly bridesmaid) we would each have two maids of honor. Or rather, the first person would have two maids of honor, the second a matron and a maid, and the third two matrons. At this precise moment Jenn is saying "I do" thousands of miles away to a man I have never met. Eight years ago if you had told me this, I would not have thought this possible. I probably would have laughed if you had also mentioned that I wouldn't have seen her in over four years.

      Life takes you by surprise sometimes, sneaking up on you and announcing that you aren't the person that you expected to be or that you are on the last place on earth that you dreamed of. Sometimes you miss important things, things you swore you never would. But there is one thing that I know as well as I know my name and that is that no matter where I go or what I do, I have two best friends who live "somewhere" who will always be there. Friends who understand things like "Jon-jumping-jack-o-lantern:", "SP", "DF", "Waterworks" & "SW". Friends with whom you got in trouble, stole sugar packets from churches, and filled out 25 comment cards at Hardee's in one afternoon. Friends with whom you went through 'that awkward stage' with, came to your plays, made you pancakes at midnight and lectured you on boys (or more specifically how important it is to know how your significant other serves a casserole). And there is nothing in the world that I would exchange for the privilege of growing up with my two best friends.