Friday, February 20, 2015


I got really sick one night and I remember laying in the fetal position on my bed trying to avoid doing the ugly cry. My sissy came in, curled up behind me and whispered "Is my Gussie gonna be ok?" as she poked her bottom lip out.
Sisters are different than friends.
You can't get pissed at your friends about how they sit on the bathroom counter.
You can't con friends into driving you around while you rant and rave.
Required forgiveness allows you to scream across arenas at each other.
Friends are far less likely to tell you the bloody truth and say "He's just not that into you."
Anybody can tell you you're going be ok and nothing is wrong with you but sometimes it just means more.
Kricket and me got up at 3 a.m. and we stumbled to the coffee maker and she smiled at me. This was 3 years ago now. We shivered and whispered and giggled through chattering teeth. She had hell catching her horse and they snorted at the trailer door. We sang "Picture" by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow with the windows cracked and the cold breezing in. I drifted off with my eyes glazing over the Top Stop neon sign that said 4:08. Her eyes are so blue in the morning. We watched the sun smile over the mountain tops between palomino ears. She left her lip balm on the dash and when she opened it that night it had melted and spilled ruining her favorite jeans. We cussed and joked and drank 44 ounces of Mountain Dew way too damn fast. Then we laughed, mocked each other and rubbed the dust off our faces.


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