My best friend is a two-year old named Clancy. You probably think I’m off my rocker saying such a crazy-ass thing. Especially given our age gap. But it’s true. And just so you know, I am currently not sitting in a rocker. I like to rock but not in a chair. I prefer concerts.
I’m drawn to good humans of all ages and descriptions but there is just something about this one that pulls me in. Tugs at my heart. Makes me smile. Laugh around the clock. And think about things in an upside-down, backwards, inside-out, topsy-turvy, against the grain and peek-a-boo kind of way. She’s an influencer who inspires. Challenges. Animates. Sparks my imagination. Invites me to explore things I haven’t in decades. Not since I was two.
We speak our own language. Or at least I understand hers. And she picks up what I’m putting down. Never judges. Never criticizes. Never makes me feel small. Well, maybe small but in a good way. We like to look eye to eye when we converse so sometimes, I have to shrink a few feet to do that. She’s one of the few people I’m actually taller than. Our conversations are often deep and thoughtful. We’re both curious. Inquisitive. We have insatiable inquiring minds. We look under rocks.
She laughs at my jokes. And I think she’s hilarious. In fact, one of the funniest people on the planet. We get each other that way. I love the sound of her giggles. The way her eyes dance when she’s happy. Her toothy grin when she knows she’s being funny. We throw our whole bodies into our humour. Farcical. Slapstick. A couple of clowns. Madcap comedians. Sometimes we fart.
She’s one of the kindest people I know. Thoughtful. Tender-hearted. Gentle. Loving and caring. An empath. Her great big heart fills her tiny body to the brim and flows over into everyone she meets and everything she does. I’m lucky because I’m one of those recipients of her benevolence. And I am so grateful.
We love to play. Especially together. We love going to the playground just down the hill from our house. She climbs to the top of the slide, and I stand at the bottom to catch her when she flies down the slippery slope. Whee! That’s the universal sound of joy. I love holding her hand when we walk away from the park. Her hand fits perfectly in mine.
We both love books. I love to read to her. But I also love it when she reads to me. Her reading skills are extraordinary even if she doesn’t really know the words. I love her words better. Even better than Miss Rachel. And that’s saying a lot.
We both love to sing. At the top of our lungs. Arms outspread. Hearts wide open. It doesn’t matter one bit if we don’t know the words. We make them up. And let it go.
The thing I love the most about my best friend is how much we love each other. Unconditionally. Fully. Completely. A never-ending story. And the way she calls me Boo.
