I have one friend...OK, so that isn't entirely the truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have tons of friends. My hubby is my best and closest, my sister is my "person", my mom is my dearest, Robin is my best, and I have dozens upon dozens of people whom I love and who love me in return. I often think about how many people would be effected if at some juncture I was to fall over dead. There are those who would have to be locked in a padded room, those who would weep, those who would mourn for a day, and those who would say "oh, how sad". That seems a good barometer for friendship; how deeply would this person grieve were I to die? Morbid? Perhaps, but effective.
But back on topic; I have one friend. This person has been my "best friend" for 21 years. Now, mind you, we are absolutely nothing alike. Truly, we are about as dissimilar as two people can be, but for 21 years of my life I have depended on her to be an intimate part of my life almost as much as food or air or some other such thing, and I believe she feels quite the same about me. We passed notes in English class, comforted each other through breakups, stood up for each other at our respective weddings. I was there at the birth of her two children, and she comforted me when I lost my hope of ever baring any. And we know each other. We know each other in that soul deep way that only people who trust each other implicitly really can. We know all of each others secrets, be they good or bad, and know that those secrets are as safe with the other as they are in our own hearts.
My friend loves me, and I love her. A few weeks ago, my friend gave me the compliment of a lifetime. She told me she was proud of me. My friend is proud of me. This person who knows me better than almost any other is proud of me. That means there is a person in the world, one who isn't related to me or married to me, but one who really knows me, who is proud of me. I'd say that makes me a remarkably successful person.
I'm really really proud of her too.