We've known each other for as far back as we both can remember. I've loved her that long too. We've had all the joys of being sisters without the "sibling stuff" to mess it up. (We're cousins.)

She knows my whole story-- every last detail, even the ones that I'd rather she didn't. Crazy enough, she loves me just the same. Relationships with people who love you in a way that feels equal to the way you love them are rare. Total blessings. They hold you up, come to your rescue, tell you the truth, keep all your secrets, and find a way to make you laugh at yourself when you are crying about something stupid. Actually, with her I'm just laughing every other minute. How does she do that?

She is my wall for bouncing ideas off of. She gives me tough love and tenderness- all at the same time. She talks through the gray areas of life with me. She is completely transparent about her own faults/mistakes and never judges me for mine. She lets me wear her favorite shirt.

We've ridden a motorcycle (that ran out of gas) at night, along the canal, without the headlight on, to sneak out of the house.

We've layed for countless hours on the concrete next to the pool (she always wins in a back diving contest).

We've put make-up on before going to bed knowing that the boys were coming to our window that night.

We've smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in one night in the middle of December out on our apartment balcony, (that one turned out bad).

We (I) also set fire to the kitchen in that apartment.

We failed winter quarter together. (See the previous two). That was a hard season....lots of growing up.

We made several rough cut video tapes of our self-choreographed dance routines and lip singing numbers. (I called her when Whitney died...she was one of our favorites.)

We've jumped from the barn lofts into the hay, from the cliffs into the lake, and from the snowmobile seconds before it was about to hit a tree.

We've built the most amazing backyard forts that you've ever seen using only a few blankets, several kitchen chairs, and some thumbtacks.

She stood beside me when I said goodbye to my mother, when I wore that big poofy white dress, and in that moment when my first child took her first breath.

I cannot imagine life without her. She is more than a permanent fixture in my life. She is a permanent part of me.

We got to spend the weekend together, and against all odds we had fun. The kids were sick. Oy.