less like friends, more like sisters.

Introducing a heartwarming story on one of God’s gifts to this earth. It has been approved for effectively treating minor hopelessness, cold-heartedness, frowning, sadness, doubt of love, and lack of inspiration. Side effects are rare, but do include: active tear ducts, “aww” noises, grins, swelling of the heart, laughter, drowsiness, loss of appetite, and runny nose.*

*Okay, so the last three are just for my own personal enjoyment. False advertising, my apologies.

Morgan and I have known each other since we were six. I mean, as much as you can actually know someone in kindergarten. She actually strongly disliked me. Which, I can’t really blame her for considering I felt it was my duty to tell everyone what their position was in the ever-so-popular game among kids… “house.” (This part becomes ironic later.)

The years went by, and I felt the responsibility to serve as commander of my peers slowly subside. My brain-to-mouth filter never really faded, but Morgan’s disinterest in me, did. We slowly started to become friends as the years went on, and at no particular “aha!” moment we did become best friends. (I know this is not the most exciting and/or fairytale story, but stick with me.)

Morgan crept into my life and became my sister, my support, my counselor, and my best friend. She was by my side through my first (and second) heart break. She wiped my tears when I didn’t understand why God took my family. She is the only person that could get into my head and stop me from crying every tear inside my body when my cousin passed away. She is also the reason I haven’t ended up in Juno, Alaska when I was going to Columbus, Ohio.

Now, “house” isn’t just a game. It is real life, as we are current college roommates and are in search for an apartment. Though, now, she has a much different role in my life then she did when we were six. Instead of playing a pretend mother, daughter, maid, or dog, she plays a true friend. (Although considering how moody I can be, she probably wishes for the days when she pretended to be a mother, daughter, maid or dog.)

When many people get married, they claim they are “marrying their best friend.” I, on the other hand, would be lying if I ever said that. My best friend will always be the one that held my hand when we walked on stage to speak to our graduating class for the last time. That title will always go to the girl who I called after my first kiss. She will always be the girl who carried my books when I broke my ankle, gave me a place to stay when I bickered with my parents, and wore sunglasses with me at night when my eyes were swollen from crying. My best friend will always be the girl who my nieces consider their “bonus” aunt. Morgan will always be the one who held my hair while I was sick over the toilet. My best friend will be the one zipping my wedding dress up and standing next to me when I finally say, “I do.” She will be the hand I hold when I need girl talk. She will be the one that I support no matter what. And, she will always be the person I call my best friend.

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose