Soul-friend

Journeys begin in great friends meeting. 

Like in a Russian novel, I first met her when she was in middle school, I in high school, she was singing for a solo and ensemble contest, and she was one of the students I was accompanying; I think she sang "Climb Ev'ry Mountain." And that was it. This recollection was pieced together later, and I know I could barely remember her name during the brief time we performed together; yet, musical theatre, lying at the intersection of our first fleeting encounter, would bring us together again a couple years later, to form a more perfect union.

Too often in my life great things happen to me as I'm heading out the door. If greatness was thrust upon Malvolio, it calls after me as I'm leaving, telling me I forgot my keys. At the end of my senior year in high school, our choir took a weekend trip to Chicago. Who overheard whom, I don't know, but Sweeney Todd was brought up, and the other one of us mentioned "Hey, I like that show." By the time we had returned from the Bloviating City, we...well, hadn't yet become the best of friends, because Life so poorly imitates Art, but she had asked me out sometime by the end of the following week. I declined, because I was leaving (I may have had a week left of high school, at the most) and she was a freshman, because I wasn't that interested--and my lack of interest mostly a result of my picky bisexuality--and because it was during a time when I wasn't that interested in relationships. Intrigued, though, I did exchange my email address. She then took her sweet time. I got her first email. I replied. Then it continued. It grew and grew. We finally hung out together as friends. During my first year at Webster we managed to see each other frequently. There was no slowing down.

I won't share the problems we have had, not out of fear for myself, just out of respect for our privacy. Herein, though, is one of the things that makes this relationship so dear to me: even at the brink of ending it, there is an understanding between us not to, something I finding lacking in so many other relationships, romantic or friendly. In order to maintain the bond, change occurs. I have been scorched, wind-blasted, buried, and well-nigh drowned, and doubtless so has she, but in hanging on, we survive injuries both coming from the world outside and from each other:

I am much more open;

I am more receptive to relationships;

I have better patience;

I am frequently humbled;

I am loved by non-blood, which in many ways is more important;

And a host of other things that I can't quite grasp. 

As my life lies currently in crumbles (not, thankfully, in itty-bitty bits), I have taken to needing her more than ever; I restrain myself still, for I fear I could suffocate her. She shoulders me, more than perhaps she knows, and I stumble forward with her help, waiting until I have recovered my strength. 

Je t'aime, Paige.

Now, to the reason I first started crafting this post: to get a shout-out from her new, awesome blog, which can be found here:
http://tippingteapots.wordpress.com/. Hopefully now she will reciprocate.

Also, I will acknowledge some other friend's blogs:

Kara's: http://kararosemarie.wordpress.com/

Alyssa's media empire: http://lifeistheteacher.wordpress.com/,

                                      http://alwaysquestfortruth.blogspot.com/,

                                      http://giftsofgodsmercy.blogspot.com/

Derek's: http://insearchofamorebeautifulquestion.tumblr.com/

If there are more, I apologize for missing/forgetting them.

UPDATE: As I was crocheting, I remembered a newer friend and blog that I had wanted to mention. Kevin's blog can be found at http://chekhovsgunman.wordpress.com/. My apologies.