We're still friends, we're still us

My best friend hasn't spent any time communicating with me lately. Not by phone, not by email. It was making me very uncomfortable.

Usually we at least trade emails a couple times a day. Two weeks ago he was in town and we had dinner together two nights in a row. That spoiled me, I guess. I was getting used to seeing him regularly, and for hours at a time, once again.

Then he took his family on a much-needed vacation to New Orleans for Jazz Fest and to visit relatives. And then he had a whirlwind business trip to New York. And last weekend was Mother's Day and naturally he had family obligations.

His silence was completely understandable. But I hated it. I missed him. Here's the thing about him -- like this blog, he just absorbs what I have to say and accepts me as I am. But from this blog I am anonymous. I can confess my inkiest-black thoughts to him and he still accepts. And comforts. And supports. When I don't hear from him, my world starts to make less sense.

Because he's him, I was able to tell him how much I missed him without feeling silly or needy or vulnerable.

I know he gets a lot from me, too. I know this relationship is a two-way street. But for the last week or so, I'd been the needy one. He was attentive and sweet via emails and over the phone as he came in from the cold.

So we're still friends and we're still us and I'm so glad. Now I can relax and concentrate on my beloved future Hall of Famer Greg Maddux taking the mound against the Reds.