Backwards in High Heels

I met one of my best friends in the entire world, Sarah, during my sophomore year in high school. Sar (as those close to her call her) and I immediately clicked, but our friendship grew stronger with the discovery of shared interests in: soccer, eclectic clothing, rock music, hour long road trips to the largest T.J. Maxx within driving distance, singing loudly with the windows down in my VW Jetta (R.I.P. sweet car), and so many other ridiculous things girls do.

Most memorably, Sar was by my side when I received the news that my brother had died. She cried with me, held me, and listened to my convoluted ramblings of a teenager trying to wade through grief for months on end. She never judged me and was always there. Sar’s birthday is on April 15 and I bought her a book that both epitomizes our current relationship and made me laugh out loud in Anthropologie. Two British authors penned the book “Backwards in High Heels: The Impossible Art of Being Female”. Sar and I laughed, cried, joked, snuck out of our houses, played soccer, talked, traveled, grew up, and survived together while trying to figure out what being a woman was all about in this crazy world-we were teenagers! This book is perfect for her, for us, so I bought it. What solidified my purchase was that part of the introduction reads, “The literary equivalent of conversations women have every week.”

Gosh I miss her! Sar lives in the town where we grew up, in New York, with her dashing Italian-born hubby and beyond beautiful daughter Giada (pronounced Jah-da)-while I enjoy North Carolina with my most amazing man.

Here’s to good friends and the understanding comfort that passes without words.