Always tell the truth, but don’t tell everything

My dearest friend and I met a decade ago and became the best of drinking buddies, an anti-depression cheer squad, valued relationship confidants. We are proof that grown women can eat fairy bread at pyjama parties and take on the world with equal amounts of vigour.

Her birthday is this weekend and she e-mails daily reminders from the first of the month. We recipients press ‘reply to all’ and exchange playful jibes about her immaturity, even though her gift of enthusiasm gives us the extra birthday each year.

Two sleeps to go and I don’t know which restaurant she’s booked.

A few months ago I confided I was seeing someone casually with my partner’s consent and blessing. We talked about rationale and reasons and she was bewildered but supportive in an if that’s what you want way.

I haven’t heard from her since.

One day she might discover my well-worn shoes on the floor and walk a mile in them.

In the meantime, happy birthday, gorgeous, and safe travels.

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