I was the good little girl, she was the wild teenager. She took me to ride horses and I was scared and loved it. She looked after me and I felt safe with her and once she left me at home alone when she shouldn't have (to go off with some boy). I craved her attention and sometimes dug through her personal stuff but she only got a little mad at me. She taught me how to put on make-up, navigate public transport, appreciate art galleries and discover the world.
Later, when we were both grown up and she was living in the exciting big city, she constantly invited me to her house, cooked me dinner, took me to the cinema and other fun places. We spent late nights sharing secrets, had a whole barrage of inside jokes and made each other cry with laughter. We spent a lot of time in cafés, on walks in the woods and on inter-city trains (travelling between her city, my city, our parents' city). Together, we tried to make sense of our parents. We sent each other thousands of funny postcards.
I turned out as the bohemian, always-broke drifter and she as the responsible one with a beautiful family and a well-paid job. To this day, she still invites me for dinner regularly even though I'm a hopeless cook and never invite her back.
In my life adrift, she is my safe harbour.
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