viv and i hold hands any time we are in an uber. there is a comfort in us holding hands while the uber driver is muttering under their breath about the traffic, when they inhale and exhale with an audible sharpness or when they jolt forward and then suddenly slam on their brakes - holding hands feels like protection against carsickness or anything else that could befall us while in the backseat of a stranger’s car as we are weaved in and out of traffic. our hands hold each other.
this is a love letter to best friends: the best friend that holds space for you even on her busiest days - amidst her endless zoom meetings - she holds the space to listen to your hundreds of audio messages, even the ones that go over a minute and forty seconds long and uses her precious time between meetings to respond and to let you know she is there and she hears you. the best friend that listens quietly, intently, actively and doesn’t try to fix your problems but says with a genuine softness and tender care that she is there for whatever you need. you believe her. the best friend that never says a bad word about your relationship - despite knowing all the gritty details because you are her priority and she centers you always - and the empathy she holds for the fact this was someone you shared a life with is always present even on your most rage filled venting days. the best friend that knows what you’re thinking without you having to say a word. the best friend that sits with you in your quietness and you in theirs. the best friend that shrieks at the suddenness of loud noises with you, the best friend that you can communicate with in one glance- a raising of an eyebrow, the lifting of the corner of a mouth, the quick and tight squeeze around an arm - all say equally as much words shared. the best friend who knows your angles, who knows when to zoom in or zoom out, the one who knows when to use flash, the one who will give every photo of you she takes the attention of an indie magazine photoshoot because she understands how a good photo can feel transformative- healing almost. the best friend who asks if you feel comfortable with how your face or body looks before posting on social media because she understands how we are our own worst critics. the best friend who you can talk to about the disgusting parts of your physical self- the stickiness, the smells, the blood, the ugly discomforts that come with having a physical body- the ugliness that comes with being a woman. the best friend that makes you feel the most seen, the most heard, the most understood without having to ask or overly explain or without even trying. she sees you in her and you see her in you. a love letter to the safety and beauty of female friendships because it can be the most beautiful place to bloom.