I My bestie was looking for an epic shout out on my Facebook for her birthday. I’m not feeling especially epic today, but I’ll give it my best shot.

Lisa is a Yankee. Like, dyed-in-the-wool of Cincinnati, Ohio. She once called to tell me that Kroger’s had bagels on sale. “Lisa, for the last time. I am from the SOUTH. I don’t eat bagels & cream cheese, I eat biscuits & butter.” I mean, this was just a few years ago. She’s been here since 1994. My first impression of her was not good. She looked like this other girl that had moved here the year previous & turned out to be a total…you know. But Megan’s goal in life was to make friends with every new person who darkened the door of Seymour Middle School, so by association, I was obligated to make nice as well. Turns out, Lisa was just as big a nerd as I was (am). So we’d hang out for days on end during the summer, playing card games, riding horses, & “cooking” (cooking consisted of what Lisa dubbed “drooling sandwiches” due to the content of mayonnaise & mustard). We also dared each other to eat stuff, like expired chocolates from Valentine’s Day with hot sauce on them. We also fancied ourselves quite the photographers. If it wasn’t equally embarrassing to me I would totally post a few. 

It was much different at Lisa’s house than it was at mine. For starters, she lived in a subdivision, which was intriguing to me. We would take walks around her neighborhood for entertainment. One day, I happened to look down & saw this old glove that had been run over a few hundred times. Believe it or not, it had been squashed into a bird sign. As in, the other fingers were folded down, but the middle one was straight up. We knew no one would believe us if we just told them, so we went back to her house for the camera. That was way back when cameras took film & the bare minimum time you had to wait for it to be developed was an hour. So we begged & pleaded with her dad to take us to Walmart to get the whole roll developed for that one picture. And people STILL didn’t believe us when we showed it around. 

The other thing was while I was used to staying alone at my house & it was usually fairly quiet & calm. I lived with my Grandmother, & she worked second shift, so when I got home from school I had the place to myself (it was okay, I was responsible as a result). Lisa’s home, on the other hand, was a different story. First of all, she lived with her parents & her granny. They all had plenty to talk about, & I was new to them, so they had plenty to tell me. 

At the same time. So they got louder & louder to be heard over each other. One day, we’re sitting in her bedroom & she’s like, “I’m thirsty. You want a coke?”

“Sure,” I said, getting up.

To my surprise, she starts screaming. “Mom!” No response.

“MOM!”

Nothing.

“What are you DOING?!” I hissed.

The door comes open. “What, Lisa?”

“Bring us some cokes.”

I am MORTIFIED. I know my face was ten shades of red. But Lisa’s mother acted like it was no big deal & a minute later is back with two fizzy glasses of coke. I couldn’t believe it. Her momma continues to be as good as gold to me, passing along books & barbeque on a regular basis. I called her the first time I ever mopped a floor to make sure I was doing it right.

So, although Lisa was raised in the north, & we couldn’t be more different, we are just enough alike to get along famously. She was my saving grace during the wedding proceedings. She stayed with me the night before to help get everything done & we were up at one at the morning decorating the arbor under which we would be standing. She threw me a fabulous shower & a bachelorette party in downtown Nashville. She’s been by my side during every major life event I’ve had. We know each others secrets & passwords.

She’s the only sister I’ve ever had. And I hope she has a wonderful birthday & doesn’t feel a day older than she does the day she stepped into life in the south 21 years ago.