I thought it might be fun to share a secret with you once in awhile. One, just to air. Two, because it doesn’t hurt anything. One thing that stinks about not having a lot of girlfriends is that Jeremy either has to listen to my same stories over and over, or I have to bottle the craziness that has been my life. You think I’ve shared some pretty amazing stories here and there? Oh, but you have no idea. Seriously. This life should have been a Soap.

I used to think that maybe, just maybe, my blog could lead to some freelance work. Hello, Dreamworld. But, my focus on English in College only goes so far and I throw the rest out the window because I don’t want to write like I’m supposed to, or about things that are proper. I want to write how I talk and about the things that are real to me. Run on sentences and misused punctuation. Obviously I’m not getting paid for this or I might shape up. Sometimes I don’t spell check…(Gasp)…

Anyhow, that was just fore-thought. You wanted to know a secret, right?

When I was in 4th grade I met my best friend Hallie. I had lived in Charleston, SC with my mom most of that year. Mom had a rough time that year. I won’t over-dramatize this by sharing the details of that, blah-blah-blah. Mom gave me to my grandma to raise for awhile in Fayetteville, NC. I was put into a private Christian school, my third school that year. And that’s when I met Hallie.

We ended up losing contact for a few years because I went back to Mom. When Mom died a few years later, I went back to live with my grandma and went to the same school where Hallie and I picked right up where we left off. She was beautiful and gracefully sociable and popular. I was her geeky sidekick who was afraid of boys. We weren’t in the same class. She (her parents) was very rich and made excellent grades. She was voted Homecoming Queen. She was all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips. She always took my boyfriends away from me– just because she could. She’d take them, make me cry, and then dump them all in the same day. Some weird masochist/sadist dance we had.

Right after graduation, she introduced me to Jason. The father of my sweet Austin. Jason and Hallie had been buds in high school and he went with us to her Father’s condo in Myrtle Beach for our “Graduation Celebration”. I thought he was really good looking and extremely likeable. He was also going to college with Hallie that Fall. I fell for him, was in a really vulnerable point in my life, and welcomed the potential relationship with him. I nearly instantly got pregnant. Go figure. I was doing what most 18 year old girls do, I just got pregnant doing it. I don’t regret Austin a single bit, he just wasn’t born into the “ideal” situation and I wish I would have brought him in to more stability and maturity.

Anyways, long story short… Hallie and Jason got their groove on when I was 5 months pregnant! I ended up going to a Maternity Home in the mountains (per my grandmother’s request) and feeling soooo utterly alone. Except for the baby in my tummy. He was my hope. But I had such a broken heart. Hallie and Jason were all I had going for me after my family turned their backs on me. There was such betrayal there.

I didn’t begrudge Jason so much as I did Hallie. You know how that goes. She was my best friend. She owed it to me to be my friend, where Jason owed me nothing. He didn’t disappoint me. She did.

She and I still talk. Often. Almost everytime we talk she apologizes to me for that incident, I’m not kidding. She sometimes cries about it, even though it was 13 years ago. Have I forgiven her? Of course. I love her! I’ve loved her for 21 years! I even loved her when she gave me the awful news and mourned losing her more than losing him. I embrace the amazing memories I have with her and, OMG, there are some unbelievable memories! And she’s grown up and into such a lovely human being, what does it matter now?

She was my best friend through an amazing era in my life. Losing mom, murder trials, first periods, first kisses, losing virginity, and so on. Hallie is one of those people I have taken with me and held tightly to. She’s the only one who knows October 17th is the day I lost my Mom and she calls me every. single. year. on that day. Every 17th of October, I get ready for bed thinking that she forgot. But she never does. She calls me almost always as I’m crawling into bed to put the day to rest. She must love me too!

So there’s a secret! When’s the last time Dooce or Amalah shared a secret with you? Huh? Huh? So if you’re are looking for a freelance writer who is honest and tells you secrets while breaking every English rule known to mankind… I’m the Momma for you. If you aren’t looking for a freelance writer and just wanted to be entertained… There’s one little secret and many more where that came from.

Here’s to the friendships that survive youth. Those are the ones that last!