She’s the friend that called me when the phone had stopped ringing.

She’s the friend that offered friendship soon after I had become an only child and was living in a family besotted by grief.

She’s the friend that took me under her wing and sought out my company even though I never really understood why.

She’s the friend that wrote me letters from college and invited me to visit and tromp through fraternity houses barefoot, drinking warm beer.

She’s the friend that never allowed me to concede defeat even when I called her in tears, choking on my own heavy sobs.

She’s the friend that has always made a grand effort and yet, I feel I have offered little in return.

She’s the friend that laughs with me, laughs at me, and makes me laugh when the tears threaten to fall.

She’s the friend that I compare to a pillar of strength, solid and strong in her resolve, few words but always acting in love and kindness.

She’s the friend whose children adore my own and mesh like long lost siblings.

She’s the friend that inspires my own tokens of offering and the one that has taught me through her beautiful example of what it means to be that friend.