I have always been a lone wolf, never having a gaggle of friends despite the fact that in high school I think I was pretty popular.  Looking back, I have noticed my folks had only a tight circle of friends but a lot of acquaintances.  I suppose that is how I would describe my husband and me now.  About six years ago I asked for help on a neighborhood website with moving our sectional.  It had bitten the dust and we could not get rid of the behemoth by ourselves.  Someone responded and said that she could not move it but that her husband could help.  As we did not really know anyone well in our neighborhood I was delighted for the overture.  So this couple came over and we wound up becoming true friends.  It turned out we both had little girls who were almost three.  We all lived in the neighborhood and we also all had shared interests.  Both my husband and hers enjoyed a wide variety of topics and she and I found ourselves talking a lot.  Over these past years this couple has watched our only child — sometimes on playdates and sometimes just because my child loves them.  They have come over for pizza and movies and have had us all over for dinner on several occasions.  Jessica majored in fashion and I cannot even sew a button.  She placed a velcro strip on a shirt for our daughter when I could not close the top and, for the past several years has given us handmade soaps complete with customized essential oils as gifts for birthdays and Christmas.  She paints, she plants, she knits, and she is incredibly thoughtful.  I have jokingly referred to her as “Martha” for Martha Stewart.  She is one of those crafty people who seem to be able to do everything themselves.  She makes her family’s own shampoo, deodorant, and overall just puts me to shame.  Her step-daughter loves our little girl with a sweetness that is heartbreaking, and her husband relates to mine in a way that very few do.  Jessica has read chapters of a book to me over the phone while I have been on my exercise bike and at times I got in a better workout because neither of us could bear to stop.  They have included us in the renewal of their wedding vows and we have celebrated our girls’ birthdays together.  I was extremely close with my mother, who passed away five years ago.  I miss picking up the phone and talking with her about everything and nothing.  God was gracious in bringing Jessica into my life.  Aside from my beloved husband and our child’s Godmother, she is the only one with whom I can speak for no reason, and I know we’ll have a shared conversation.  I don’t mean hurried babbling; it’s listening and CARING about what the other has to say.  A couple of years ago I attended a speech she gave for a special event at a hotel in downtown Dallas and was stunned by her relaxed composure.  Over the course of about five years Jessica has become one of my very best friends.  The Dutch-American television personality Yolanda Hadid is quoted as having said, “I have learned that friendship isn’t about who you’ve known the longest, it’s about who came and never left your side.”  That is how I feel about my friend Jessica, her husband Luke, and little Emaleigh.  Jess always manages to make REAL time for me; I feel Luke and my husband Burk get along like brothers, and Maris and Emma love each other (and squabble) like sisters.  I have spent several years turning our dismal, horridly disgusting two car garage into my beloved dream “Blue Wolf Barcade.”  Jessica and Luke have seen it every step of the way with excited encouragement.  They are our only friends who have an open invitation to come over anytime — no matter what.  I suppose it is because I know we will always be met with love and not judgement.  They have been over when all of the neighborhood’s power went down (and we all hung out in the dark Barcade because it was literally the coolest place around.)  Our wolves adore them, and they love our cats.  After I officially completed “The Blue Wolf Barcade” I immediately called Jess to see if she’d like to come and see.  So she rolls over about twenty minutes later and I take her into my sanctuary.  We have a lit air hockey game with mallets and a puck that light up blue, my beloved antique cocktail game “Arkanoid,” a 60 games in 1 double player stand up arcade featuring classics like Centipede, Galaga, Frogger, Ms. Pac-Man and more.  We also have a modest Skee-Ball machine which I adore because I often used to enjoy that game, as well as air hockey, with my father.  I have never played darts in my life but our little one informed me they made magnetic ones so our arcade proudly contains them as well.  She is also a car enthusiast like me and proclaimed we should add a driving game.  I was able to purchase the one I could never play growing up because my folks just didn’t have the money.  It cost 50 cents and is called “Crusin’ Around the World.”  You can pick your car and drive from three different vantage points:  one) where you don’t see the car, two) where you can just see the hood, and three) where you get sort a sky view of all the cars and the road.  I prefer the lowrider view because it’s the most realistic and can actually get people who are not always prone to motion sickness queasy.  I also had it set to the highest difficulty level and the steering wheel is hair-trigger.  So there Jess was looking around and I yell, “Hey!  Do you wanna drive?!”  “Sure,” she says and nonchalantly proceeds to move her electronic wheelchair close to our driving machine seat; effortlessly transferring herself over.  Now mind you I have not been jealous of her ability to sew, or for her propensity of putting me to shame with her “Martha Stewart-esque” handmade soaps my husband loves, or even the crafty science things she has done with my child.  But now she crossed the line — I am an excellent driver and, at the risk of bragging, I always win first place.  I realize it is hard to see in this picture, but I clocked her at 104 (she went higher) and she never once used the brake.  She then proceeded to do the unthinkable by beating my high score.  Perhaps I should disclose my badass friend has had essentially the use of only four fingers since she was around one and a half years old after a bad car accident which left her nearly dead.  And yet she maintains a home, works, cares for their animals, looks after her husband and step-child, and yeah, pretty much makes Martha Stewart look like a slacker.  Some people might look at her petite size or lean in to hear her quiet voice and presume fraiIty.  I have only ever seen a strong fighter — and I am fortunate to call this extraordinary woman my friend.