#5: Trout

If you haven't been keeping up (and it's a shame if you haven't), the Month of March was dedicated to "Women who have shaped you", an idea that a lot of great writers stole from Bre. (And if you haven't read her last one, you should. It's genius). Anyway, this is my last one for the month (I like to cut things close apparently).


You know how you have that one event that becomes the marker for your life? Everything happened either before or after it, and the day it happened is burned into your memory? Sometimes it's a divorce, sometimes it's a wedding. Sometimes it's a death, sometimes it's a birth and for a few of my more... materialistic friends, it's the time you found your favourite shoes marked 50% off. I have my marker.

It's the day I met Trout.

I don't mean to say that my life before this great friend was horrible, or that the life I've had after has been a blur of rainbows and butterflies but she's the marker I have because I have a hard time imagining a life without her in it.

She's that friend.

The first person I told when my doctors thought I had cancer. The last one to judge me when I made the same mistake for the fourth time. The one who knows my secrets, my failures, my regrets and likes me despite it all. The one who is the Mary Kate to my Ashley. The one who volunteers to help regardless if it's moving furniture, painting childrens faces for a play or listening to me discuss the latest trouble in my life. She's the one who understands why I need to color code my bookcase and closet and comments on how nice it looks while others stare wondering 'why?'.

The one who has seen me at my best- dressed to cause heart attacks with shiny hair and tall boots (and the only one who truly knows how long it takes me to achieve this look), has seen me at my worst- in 3-day old sweatpants and sweatshirt with holes with no inclination to find the hairbrush, and everyday in between. She's seen me in every Halloween costume imaginable (pirates last year was a favourite, but the signature Brandy and Trout costume was defintetly the Olsen twins the year before), and knows exactly what my 'rage' face looks like. She's the one who I can have a 40 minute conversation about a celebrity (and not feel guilty at all) and then yell about George W, and not blink an eye.

She's the friend who feels like the sister I never got.

She was there when my house burnt down (it was her house too, after all). She watched my bag during the 10 hour layover in Germany when mono ravaged my body. She was the one who handed me the bag of frozen peas to stop the swelling when I broke my foot break dancing. She was there for the time 34 eye patches needed to be made for a pirate play. And the time my heart broke into thirty-six million pieces because of a boy? Trout said all the right things, but realized sometimes saying nothing is the best thing you can do. She's been my translator, my therapist, my stylist, my cook (I miss the grilled cheese) and the one person I seem to never run out of things to talk about.

I will see her in a few hours. Because Trout has volunteered her Saturday to painting many faces for my latest childrens play. She will do this and I will say thank you and then I will realize it will have never of crossed her mind to NOT help me.

Why?

Because she's the best kind of friend. The one who wants more for you that even you can imagine, who's hopes for you exceed your own, the one who doesn't ignore your failures but finds the success in them.

She's that friend.