You are my shelter.
You are my sounding board.
You are my Nigella.
You are my Mrs Doubtfire.
And, there isn’t a time when I won’t need you.
When I was little I used to have the same nightmare over and over that you and Dad disappeared. I’m not quite sure what actually happened to you but all I know is that when I went to look for you you weren’t there and at the tender age of 6 or 7 I wasn’t ready for you to be gone.
I won’t ever be ready for that.
I remember at 24 hanging up on you over the wedding guest list. I texted you afterwards to say that I loved you and that I was sorry.
I will always be sorry for those silly little things that I said in angst and didn’t mean.
Like storming off in a fit of adolescent rage when at 12 I didn’t get what I wanted for my birthday, what a little bleeeep! That was a hurtful and miserable thing to do. I would smack my bum if I could, you didn’t but that was a very real thing in those days and you could have.
Mostly I’m just sorry because one day there won’t be enough sorry’s to bring you back to me and all I’ll have are my memories, my thank you’s and my sorry’s.
I know you will have forgotten all these silly little things because that’s just who you are and that’s just what you do.
I still like how at 32, with a mortgage and a husband and all those other grown-up things you still say ‘I’ll buy that for you Lu’ or ‘my shout’ and suddenly I feel like a child who goes by the nickname of Lu and just got given her favourite barbie doll. You’re all kinds of awesome.
I wonder how long you can keep a text message for because unashamedly, I keep all of yours (and your voicemail’s too) because you never know when I’ll need to listen to them.
You’ve taught me so much that teaching you how to use your iphone, send an email or restore your Facebook password seems to pale in significance to the unforgettable woman that is you.
You continually amaze me.
And I will always need you. Always.