Yesterday was Misty’s birthday. I’d like to just give a little shout out to my best friend of 11 years. Wow! That’s an incredibly long time.

Our friendship has seen many changes over the years. From literally sharing a class, to a bedroom, to sharing teaching stories and the occasional movie date.

While I am sad sometimes about the transformation from laughing so hard we were kicked out of Shari’s to laughing at Misty’s birthday party because I was acting like one of her students, I am happy that I still am able to laugh with Misty at all. {We were deciding teams and I yelled, “I’m not moving!” and Misty informed the room that she felt like she was at school. I laughed at her. I laughed at myself. Then I laughed at us.} Laughing with Misty is good for my soul.

I think that’s how you know you have a true friend. When your friendship evolves as you do.

The fact of the matter is I can be pissed off at someone, have hurt feelings from someone, feel bad about myself, be stressed out, and Misty is still one of the first (if not the first) people I go to about it. Usually through a text message just to get it off my chest. Everything from an email this summer that totally ticked me off to the fact that my weight had gone back up this week when I stepped on the scale. She gets all of it. Maybe more than she would like most days, I’m sure.

In high school it was boys a boy, mean Mormon girls, and finding ways to skip class or do less work. In college it was the same boy, family drama, my job (mean bosses/coworkers), and still finding ways/reasons to skip class and/or do less work. Now, it’s bigger responsibilities, money management, weight management, classroom management, mean teachers, and people at Winco that hurt my feelings and I feel like Misty needs to know about it while I’m pushing my cart through the parking lot.

She is the one who saw me naked looooong before my husband did. She is the one I danced with on the balcony of our apartment with and had confessionals in the bathroom with while we lived together. She’s the one that whipped her head around in anger at the boy who made a stupid comment in our British literature class when I didn’t want to watch a rated R movie (never mind the fact that I was actually not being principled at all and just trying to get out of work…she still got worked up when he was rude). She is the one who, not long after, when I really did decide to stop watching rated R movies, sat on the floor of Hollywood Video with me while we searched for the perfect movie–PG-13, love triangle preferably, mixed with a little making out and a little sad. I think? That was our basic criteria. She respected the changes I made.

When there’s a good chick flick coming out, I get anxious to text her so that we can see it together. If there’s a horror movie that looks like it might be slightly scary/borderline funny, she’s my date. We exchange books and talk about them. I will text her to see if she has a book and then I know I don’t have to buy it. I can ask her for the same recipe 384747 times and she will still send it to me so I can have it for a party.

{Side note: I went and saw Something Borrowed without Misty. I think it was because Grace had just been born but I’m not sure. I saw it by myself at the theatre. Something that was strangely on my bucket list so I went. I enjoyed the movie very much, but there were parts where I just knew that if Misty were there I would’ve laughed differently. It would have been better. I rented that movie just a while back (I really liked it…a lot) and I thought to myself how I so missed out since I didn’t get to see that movie with her. }

She was at my college graduation and she wore a sash that I gave her for all of the support she gave me throughout the college years. She was there on my wedding day. She was there at my Grandma’s funeral. And she will be there right alongside my mom and my aunt when I have my first child. She is a part of my family.

Though I often feel she doesn’t know how much she still means to me and how much I still love her. I hope this will give her some indication.

Happy Birthday! We used to make fun of our “batty English teacher” and now you are one!{Except maybe we didn’t actually make fun of our English teacher and I was just trying to tie my story up nicely…that might have just been a Caren moment on my part). Either way, a lot has changed in 11 years. What a difference even one year makes! I hope this one is great!