One day, years ago, I woke up and realized I was surrounded by Gemini. Not in the “come out with your hands up” sort of way. It’s more of a, ‘Dang I buy a lot of presents in June,’ observation.
It makes complete sense to me, then, that both my husband and my very best friend are Gemini. And miracle of miracles – not only do they get along, they approve of each other. Life doesn’t get a whole lot better than that.
Today, my very best friend is having a birthday. One that I can’t celebrate with her because she moved all the way to New York, Brooklyn in fact, two years ago. And way out there she has a life that she loves, one that I’m not a part of. Not for a lack of invitations to visit, but so far I’ve had either a baby in my belly or a baby hanging on my boob. A baby who could have been born a Gemini, had I crossed my legs for a few extra days.
The consolation for having a very best friend who lives all the way across the continent is history.
Blackmail worthy history. If I ever decide to run for government office? My enemies could bring me down in one fell swoop, should they ever coax her to their side.
(Apparently I wore that outfit every day.)
From the outside, we are more different than we are alike. But on the inside, I am not complete without her. She knew me before I knew myself, and helped shape me into the person I am today. For seventeen years now, I have relied on her to bring balance to my chaos, and she has done so unfailingly. Ever the voice of reason, she has propped me back up countless times.
I only hope I have done the same for her. I love you, girl. Happy Birthday.
