Tag Archives: lindsay

There’s No One Else Like Lindsay

I remember how I met my friend Sara; we both loved the foo fighters and everlong and the rest is history. I remember how I met Erin. We both played sax, I was new to the school, and she made me be friends with her. I remember befriending
Joanna… slowly and then all at once. And Courtney… awkwardly and awesomely. I remember becoming friends with my other Sara… We worked together and bonded over good and bad customers and, well, drinking.

I don’t remember meeting Lindsay. At all.

And I probably know her better than anyone else, as she knows me better than anyone else. There isn’t much we don’t know about each other. I love her and she loves me. I’ve fought hard and dirty with her. She’s seen me at my worst (I’m not kidding.) and at my best, and she loves me the same, if not more for it. I’ve seen her worst and best, too, and it makes her who she is to me. Have I said we love each other?

I’ve definitely known Lindsay for about 20 years (has it really been that long?) because I know we met in middle school. I remember her wearing an ant farm shirt and other funny quirky t-shirts, and she’s told me that at the time she thought I was “totally grunge.” I remember so many little bits and pieces throughout middle and high school. I’ll never forget the diagram she drew for me. Or her laying down in the middle of the road. We lived sort of close to each other, and I laugh every time I think about a story that involved an exchange student and dewy grass. I’m sorry I was out of the classroom in CHAP when she got caught making a comment about Mr. Sweeney’s red face. I remember her singing “On My Own” in the talent show, and I still randomly ask her to sing it to me. Of course she does.

Lindsay had her daughter before we were done having our early-20s fun. Clear as day I remember driving to her apartment and hanging out, waiting patiently while she nursed the baby and put her to bed. Then we’d hang out some more. Watch tv, sit on the patio and have deep talks. Or read… yeah, read. We would be in the same room eating terrible junk food and reading fluff magazines or books. That’s how cool our friendship was; we didn’t have to fill the gaps. I’ll never forget seeing Chris Thile with her. Or that guy riding in her carseat afterward. Weird.

When I met Nate I told her I wasn’t sure about him and she rationally told me what was great about him but also helped me work out what issues I had with him. I still went to her house several evenings a week to just chill, telling Nate, “be back later, it’s Lindsay time.” When Nate and I were getting close to marriage I understand that he and Lindsay had a talk. She wanted to be sure we would be as happy together as she thought I deserved. She was the only non-family member to visit us in the hospital after Atticus was born. In fact, she came to the hospital for both boys’ births.

There have been periods of time in my life when I saw Lindsay daily, for several hours. There have been periods of time where we don’t see each other for months. I hate admitting there are even times where we just don’t take the time to speak for weeks or months. Every time we talk or see each other it’s like we are picking right back up where we left off, the most natural friendship ever.




We always told each other everything, and we still do. I love her dearly, and really can’t imagine my life without her. I frequently recall the time she told me about her grandma’s best friend dying. Her grandma, one of the kindest and wisest women I’ve ever known was so sad and it really depressed me. Lindsay said “That’s like us, Laura. They’ve been friends their whole lives. Can you imagine how awful it would be for us to lose each other?” No. I can’t imagine it and I hope I never have to.

If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.
~A.A. Milne