My Girls

My Girls-Animal Collective

It's annoying how, when you're little, you don't remember things that end up being very important to you later in life. I, for example, wish I knew what my first words to my two best friends-we'll call them "Madison" and "Nolee"-were. Probably something stupid like, "Hi, my name is Katie", but still.

I actually really wish I knew that because our friendship was so puzzlingly random. Nolee was loud and opinionated, Madison was quiet and nice, and I was show-offy and weird. We were all in Mrs. Radtke's fourth-grade class, and by the end of the year we had become best friends. I suppose it was because we were all slightly eccentric: rather than, say, play tag at recess, we would pretend to be character from Little Women. Oftentimes, we would just walk around the playground, talking about our thoughts and problems.

Over the years, I have come to realize that I am blessed with two indispensable friends. We can exchange one look and know exactly what the other is thinking. We easily finish each other's sentences. The best part is that there's never been problems with two ganging up on another; it just seems to work. And somehow, even after seven years, we never run out of things to talk about.

We've been through a lot. Madison's fear of abuse, my fear of blood. Backing each other up in fights. Comforting each other about bombed tests and boy troubles and bullies. We've had to sacrifice sometimes, but our friendship has made up for it.

We're still as weird (in a good way) as ever-we like to just sit around and watch random TV shows. We have a series of codenames and symbols so we can talk freely about whatever we want without anyone knowing. In short, we've reached BFFL status.

Thanks, "Nolee" and "Madison" for always being there.