The Stepmoms Club
I don’t really have a best friend. My husband, of course, fills the official title, but, aside from him, there isn’t that one person I speak to on the phone every single day. It’s not something I’m sad about, but it is something I’m aware of, and ponder occasionally. Maybe it’s a big club, now that Instagram and Twitter have become our de-facto check-ins. Or maybe I’m just not a phone person. Oh well. To me, friendship isn’t about hours clocked, anyway. It’s about the instant reconnect. No matter how much time has passed, you pick up right where you left off, and you pick up seamlessly. Take the other night’s dinner with Becca and Stephanie. I’ve known Becca for ages, but the frequency with which we get together is pretty rare. We’ve been in each others’ homes only once or twice, and we have a meal three times a year, tops. Yet she feels like a cousin. We use the same references and descriptors, we make each other laugh and we generally just get each other. That kind of …