Whenever I hear a Marianas Trench song or find myself wandering the aisles of the local health food store and wondering just what kombucha actually is, it’s Miss Aubrey that I think about. Or when I have an unfortunate Freudian slip, or need somebody to tell my deepest and scariest thoughts to – it’s Miss Aubrey that I pull out my phone to text or talk to.
I’ve always thought of her as Miss Aubrey. The ‘Miss’ always just seemed to go with her name, and her personality begs a bit of class. So Miss Aubrey it is. With her hipster-esque glasses, genuine smile, bright eyes, and ability to pull off hair that echoes Audrey Hepburn, Aubrey is the peanut to my butter. The Jane to my Lizzie. The Diana to my Anne.
We only live an hour apart, closer to 45 minutes now that I’ve moved. Yet that hour seems to feel a lot longer and like a much larger distance with life always getting in the way. Although we’ve never lived ‘close,’ there was a time when we would see each other multiple times a day. Now we’re lucky if we get to see each other once a month.
Yes, distance has put a bit of a restraint on our relationship. Our lives are very much our own, but somehow we’re still friends. We don’t talk all the time. I don’t feel the need to constantly update her on my whereabouts or decisions, but I know that she’s there. I know that Miss Aubrey is the sort of girl who always makes good decisions in faith, and I sometimes ask myself, “What would Aubrey do?”
I don’t get to see her as much as I’d like. In all honesty we don’t even talk as much as I’d like. I get frustrated with myself for being so busy and for letting things get in the way. Yet she’s there. She’s always there. I still think about her every day, even if it’s in just the smallest way possible and knowing that I’m lucky enough to call her friend. That girl hasn’t seemed to give up on me yet, though heaven knows she probably should have a long time ago. I struggle with balancing my life and getting my priorities straight, but over the last year Miss Aubrey’s friendship has been consistent, and that alone has relieved me of so much stress.
I think we’ve both changed a lot since we first became (fast) friends. Actually there isn’t much to think about – it’s true. It’s a good change, though.We’re growing up and still trying to figure just what exactly that means. She’s the older and wiser one, and I look up to her example a lot. Her advice continues to make my transition easier. She’s never failed to be a perfectly classy example of maturity.
Yet even with all this change, we’re still friends. Friends in the very truest sense of the word. Miss Aubrey is my bosom friend. Life just sort of threw us together, and I’m very glad it did. Life continues to whip down on us each in very different ways, but I have no doubt that we’ll be laughing (and wheezing) about the good ol’ times when we have to soak our teeth in brandy and use canes to hobble around. As far as examples go, she is a pretty great one. I’m lucky to call her my best friend.
So here’s to you, Miss Aubrey: the classiest friend a gal could ask for. And here’s to praying and hoping that I get to laugh with you again very, very soon.