I don’t remember the first time I met her. Perhaps when things are really important, we don’t remember first moments. Or, more likely, I just met her before I was old enough to form these kind of intentional memories, before I was capable of reaching back in time and freezing an image into significance, naming it a beginning.
People talk a lot about whether men and women can be friends, as though the difficulty of friendship stopped there, as though the same question shouldn’t be asked about all friendship- can two women be friends, can two people be friends?….Is there any love possible in which one person doesn’t want something from the other that isn’t quite the same thing that the other person wants from them?
–Helena Fitzgerald, “First Best Friend”
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