I have a friend.
My oldest friend.
I can't remember when we became friends but it was somewhere between Cabbage Patch Dolls and listening to Pseudo Echo sing Funky Town on the radio.
In the early years I spent most of my time trying to make her laugh... Till she wet her pants.
I have this sense that she was in the middle of my life and I kept turning into her.
I'd spin off somewhere like get a boyfriend, or find another friend, or discover a new band, or go to uni, or go flatting, or get a job, or get married but I would always turn into her.
And then I would spend my time trying to make her laugh... Till she wet her pants.
But recently ... I got busy.
Busy with grief and guilt and shame after loosing my sister. Busy with trying to please my new friends. Busy with running. Busy trying to be a good wife and mum. Busy trying to keep my job.
And you know what. In all that time I didn't turn back into her.
She called me on it. Tonight. I had just got in from a run. There was a message to call her. So I did.
Then she called me on it... Getting too busy to value the oldest, gutsiest, grittiest, truest friendship I have.
I haven't called her, emailed her, facebooked her, texted her for 4 months. 4 months. Nothing.
She was incredibly brave doing that. Calling me on it. I had hurt her so much. She has spent the last 4 months tormented over what she could have possibly done to make me not want to talk to her. She's that person. Owning it all.
She was utterly gutted to know the truth. I hadn't called her for FOUR MONTHS because ... I got busy. And because she's that person ... She forgave me. Just like that.
I felt so ashamed. I had taken this precious friendship for granted. I got busy and just assumed she would be there when I got unbusy.
I'm so sorry.
Not sorry like... "sorry I got a cigarette burn on your violent femmes t shirt" sorry or "sorry I swore in front of your mum" sorry or "sorry I haven't got enough petrol money" sorry.
But real sorry.
Friend. I am sorry.