Lizzie and Miranda

 

In the last few months I’ve been weeding out an enormously extensive book and DVD collection, selling and giving away to friends and family. The other week I came across a box set of Lizzie McGuire season two that was bought impulsively (how else!) at a Toys ‘R’ Us on a trip to the city in year ten or 11. About to put it on my chuck away pile I

remembered someone who would have been perfect for me to give the box set to. She’s been on a Nick Toon binge of late (or at least that’s what her Facebook tells me) and Iremember seeing on a blog post of hers that she had been searching for Lizzie McGuire on DVD to add to her also extensive collection. It was even her birthday not too long ago so this would have been the perfect present for her!

And then I remembered something else; besides the cursory “happy birthday” messages and the occasional “hey what have you been up to?” (always from me) I have not properly spoken to this girl in months, since December maybe. This is a girl who I loved and hated and everything in between in the past but always reconciled with, citing declarations of eternal friendship and sisterhood. A girl who I exchanged letter after letter with all though high school and beyond, at least up until this year. One of these letters even had us likening each other with halves of other best friends we both loved like Disney Princesses and the Babysitter’s Club, like Lizzie McGuire and her best friend Miranda. We shared secrets and hopes and dreams and fears and crushes, everything you could think two 13 year-old girls would share with each other. We always said we’d be friends always, move in with each other after uni, buy a puppy and a kitten together, and travel the globe with each other. I knew that other friends would come and go but I always thought we’d stay together; we were so alike and knew everything about each other. There was a time where I could honestly say that nobody knew me like she did. But then the inevitable happened.

What now?
 The Dandy Warhols (brought to me via The OC) told me that “a long time ago, we used to be friends but I haven’t thought of you lately at all.”

People grow up. That happens, and if this were the case here I’d be sad about it but then I’d move on knowing that I’ll always have the good times I shared with her. People grow apart from each other all the time and it’s become one of those things that are just expected. Of course the 16 year old girl sobbing and hugging through her final day of high school would vehemently object, but it can’t be stopped. I’m a firm believer in the idea that people come into your life for a reason, and there’ll be those who flit in and out but there’ll also be people who won’t budge no matter how tough the going gets. I’m lucky enough to have had an amazing array of people come in and out of my life and know how much they mean to me. People I can be my whole self with and who love me for exactly that. So why do I care so much about one person slipping away?

Maybe it’s because this girl used to be one of my best friends. No, not even that, we were like sisters, and I always thought she’d be there for me. But then the change started happening. It started with “oh I’ll have to get back to you, I’m so busy with work” and gradually progressed from delayed replies to flat out ignoring of messages, all over a two or three month period. That would have been okay, I could have dealt with that if not for Facebook. It was there that I saw the “hey I miss you” messages to my best friend and the “I’m such a spinster alone on the weekends” posts with me living not ten minutes away from her. It became frustrating and almost downright insulting that thanks to the power of technology she was so close to just clicking and typing and saying hi to me and was almost actively choosing not to. It would be one thing if I had done something to insult her but I had been the complete opposite. Checking in to see she was okay when she posted things freaking out about a trip she was taking, testing the waters with non-committal comments on arbitrary posts, liking pictures of her trip to Queensland. Even after not having spoken to her for months there is still love for her there. Part of me that can’t stop caring no matter how many times I try to tell myself “people grow apart, it happens.” It sucks, that’s for sure, but you are supposed to deal with it and move on.

That’s what the Dandy Warhols say anyway; “If ever again, a greeting I send to you, short and sweet to the soul I intend.”

Miranda knows best.

Try as I might I just can’t, not with someone who I always thought I’d have forever, who would be there with me on the front porch in our rocking chairs as old ladies. Even now I’m still thinking it would be a good idea to send her the box set, just to see how she is.

 
 
 
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