Posted by: canaryinacoalmine | January 15, 2008

sister of the heart

One isn’t able to choose members of their family…that’s for sure.  If so, I probably wouldn’t have chosen a brother who limped for three weeks in the third grade just in case he broke an ankle; or  a sister who had a fetish for chewing her own hair until she was 14.  However, there are people in this world you can choose…people who touch your heart, talk you through things, truly have your best interest in mind when they call you out and never make you feel as though you are alone in the world NO MATTER HOW MANY MILES BETWEEN YOU AND THEM.  Those unique individuals, whose ties sometimes go deeper than blood, is the family we CHOOSE to know and the family we CHOOSE to love.


One fateful day over four years ago I met Lindsey aka ASSKICKER RICKER in the computer room of our old apartment complex.  Instantaneously we became the best of friends.  There’s something soulful that happens occasionally when you meet someone for the very first time and connect.  There’s a spark, a bond or need for kinship when the soul recognizes one who is traveling a similar path but creating  their own adventure. It’s as though your heart grows bigger allowing yet another to stop, stare and grow with you through the years.


My AssKicker has been traveling the world for the last year and a half but that has not slowed down our friendship.  She looks out the window, spots the Indian Ocean, is piss ass drunk and calls me.  I stare out the window, view roads jammed with trucks filling up the Texas sky and grab my phone, “Oh shit Jess – I’m so drunk I just hit my head,’” she slams, “I don’t even know if I’m bleeding,” deflated from a long night I can’t tell if she’s about to break down or break into one of her renditions of Annie Get Your Gun.  So I laugh, our conversations are filled with laughter every day we talk on the phone – regardless of continents or miles between. Because in my mind’s eye – she’s right here with me.  And boy, the girl just gets me and I her.


I’ve made a promise to visit her this summer in Melbourne, Australia and in return – she’s made a promise to come home to the states…unless Hillary wins – then I’ll join her.


Email to Lindsey:

I love and miss you so much! You
are loved more than all the toddlers with cute voices
whose cheeks begged to be squeezed…except the
starving ones in 3rd world countries. They aren’t
loved enough.”
 Her response: after reading my blog 

blonde moment
I’ve always wondered but never asked. what the hell
does “no outlet” mean? Does that just mean dead-end or
no turn around? Cut me some slack, I am the girl who
asked “What did Buffalo soldiers kill?…Buffalo?”

Two peas in a pod this one and I and I miss her terribly!

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