When I was younger, I would pack for three-day summer camp months in advance. My grandparents gave me a mini suitcase for Christmas one year. After taking it home, it was rarely empty, I filled it with my favorite clothes and polka dotted socks just in case my parents would surprise me with a weekend getaway. Traveling has long been a catalyst for giddiness within. Tonight, I’m fortunate enough to be flying to Minnesota to celebrate the soon fleeing singleness of one of my closest friends, Brittany. The promise of travel, winter coat wearing weather, and long overdue girl time has my heart feeling like it will positively explode. But, this trip holds a promise of greater value, a promise of soul full ness.
Day 11.
11 doubled is 22. 2 2 are the last two digits of Brittany’s phone number. In a way, doubling Brittany equates to me. Bear with me, as I try to explain this numerical equation of friendship that, to a degree, has yet to be hashed out in my own head.
Brittany and I have had a marathon friendship of sorts. Whereas our friendship started rhythmic and well paced, there were times where it seemed to have dehydrated or run out of energy to burn. In elementary school, we did everything together. My first sleepover was at Brittany’s house, nearly all of my talent show debuts were alongside her, our closets mimicked each other’s due to our desire to look like twins. Our time together most regularly passed innocently, drinking cokes and eating doritos with salsa and cream cheese while wataching our favorite Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen movie. Sometime, towards the latter years of middle school and the commencement of high school our friendship’s energy supply depleted. We remained friends, but lacked the sisterhood style depth that initially bonded us.
Our friendship preserved, but just barely.
Until our senior year of high school.
Our similar (at times unhealthy) obsession with exercise and resulting diminishing size drew the same sort of exploitive attention from the same man, our senior government teacher. Neither Brittany nor I would say we are grateful for the misuse of authority this man exercised on us, but through it, I grew closer to Brittany than I ever had been before.
Through prepping for a court case and undergoing betrayal from previously thought trustworthy adults in our lives, Brittany and I shared our insecurities with each other. Surface level, this sharing of ourselves came through text messages or phone calls, but each time a communication was exchanged via one of the many means available to us, I felt like my soul was being shared. It wasn’t as if I was giving Brittany my soul or vice versa, it was as if we had the same soul, that held far more power doubled than it could withstand singularly. The same soul because at that time, we needed one that was doubly powerful than either of ours could be separately.
The last four digits of Brittany’s phone number are 1 0 2 2. Daily, I look at the clock at 10:22 or check out at the grocery story with an order totaling $10.22, and I am reminded that my soul is infused with that of another.
11 doubled is 22, similar to the way that Brittany doubles me, works within the innermost parts of my being to strengthen my soul. Through our marathon of a friendship, Brittany has taught me that love is shedding the surface and realizing our soul full spirit within.
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