I just hung up the phone with a best friend of 30 years.
"Love ya," I said.
"Love ya too," she replied, "and happy Easter."
"Um, happy Easter to you, sort of," I smile when I hear her giggle that hasn't changed since the day we met. She still sounds like a junior in high school.
Melissa lives in LA, I live in Utah. She's never had children or ever wanted them. I've had four and couldn't imagine life without them.
She has an enviable career: Currently, she is VP of production for a major television star's company. Her card has an address and number for a Beverly Hills office and a Miami office. She's worked with the best; she's been part of Emmy award winning teams. The actors and actresses she is well acquainted with are the A listers of features and television. I am a school teacher.
She wears Clergerie. I have one pair of designer shoes bought at a deep discount store.
She's Jewish, I'm Mormon.
The opposites continue like a long strand of DNA.
I'm thankful she's not like me. She's thankful I'm not like her--in this we find joy.