I didn’t write this week, except a piece for my Patreon, because I was too stressed out to settle my head into any sort of space to get work done. Even now, a part of me doesn’t want to sit here at the desk and peck out my words, but I am because if I fall off too hard, I won’t get back up. So, here’s some words about my tiniest bestie.
Last night I was feeling down, so after work I went over to my Gram’s house because on Fridays there’s always folks over for dinner. It was just her, two of my aunts, and my 12-year-old cousin, G. I was going there solely to get a hug from my Gram, because Gram hugs are the best hugs, but I ended up with a solid gold 10-out-of-10 hug the moment I walked in, and it came from G. They are short, so they wrapped their arms around my waist and squeezed and said they were happy to see me. This filled me with joy and made me feel instantly less crappy. G has a way of doing this, though, and has been doing it for over a decade.
I remember the Easter when my aunt Mary told me she was pregnant and I was so excited, and then the following Thanksgiving they burst on the scene, a miracle baby made from love and science! By the end of June, my yet-to-be husband was living in their house, and I was seeing them every day. They would toddle over in the morning and take my empty coffee cup and climb onto the sofa beside me and watch the news while pretending to drink from my cup. Mark would play blocks with them and read them stories. They would holler out the window at us when we were in the yard, baby-speaking to us as though we could understand them. “Skibidee,” or “Skibs,” remains Mark’s favorite nickname for them-those were the noises they would make when they were in deep conversation with us, before they learned their words.
After Mark moved out, I didn’t see tbem as much, but we still had playdates often and family events where we would hang…and that’s when I realized-we hang. They have always thrown down with me the exact same way an adult would. They has always been considerate and kind with me, never bossy or manipulative or begging or the million other things kids can be when they are kids. They show great maturity when with me, so in turn, I have always spoken with them as though they are my peer. G isn’t just my little cousin, or a friend of my kids, they are my friend.
So yesterday, when I needed a friend, I walked into the door of my grandmother’s house and found one. They ran up to hug me and instantly took away my rain clouds. We sat across from each other at dinner and they had conversations with me and Gram and my aunts, and it was lovely. They also drew me a picture of a cat, which I shall keep because I personally also think they’re a brilliant artist. The moral of the story is that I went home smiling and now it’s morning and I’m thinking about them and I’m still smiling. So what if they’re 12? That’s a good friend that can make you do that.