Stick Time

by Acacia

I have a BFF. Her name is Lisa, and she’s not one of those bullshit “frenemies,” but someone who has known me throughout my adolescent and adult life. Someone with whom nothing changes. No matter how far apart we live, no matter how long it’s been since we last spoke/IMed/texted/facebooked – whatever, it’s like no time has passed at all. Despite weddings, babies, graduate degrees, moving to new jobs, once we’ve caught up on each other’s news, it feels just as comfortable to be with her as it always has. She can take any serious moment and make me laugh like a spastic Pekinese.  She has had a profound impact on my life – more than she knows.

Here are some ways that Lisa still affects my every day life, despite the thousand miles between us:

  • I still lift my feet whenever I drive or ride across railroad tracks
  • Lisa introduced me to sniglets. To this day I still use the terms “spagmump” (packing styrofoam bits,) “blithwap” (hammering in a nail with anything but a hammer,) and “pupsqueak” (the sound your dog makes when he yawns too wide) in regular discourse.
  • I call on Rudy, the great god of parking, whenever I am looking for a space.
  • Every time the clock reads 1:11, or 11:11 I think of her.

This last one is what we call “stick time.” It was just a random thing that Lisa pointed out once and ever since then I think of her whenever I notice it, which is surprisingly often. Maybe I just happen to see it or I subconsciously look for it, but when I see it I imagine her barking like the dog who once chased our car on a dark road (long story) or making the same hand gesture that her ex-boyfriend used to do (one of us would mimic him behind his back whenever he started pontificating on his own greatness.)

So every time I look at the clock, I look for Lisa.

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