My Maya

I am going to write about my relationship with a girl named Maya. This girl has been my best friend for 13 years, and we share a bond so immaculate you'd think we were once conjoined twins who shared one heart--how we survive separated remains a mystery. I like to think of her as a soul mate, and I could wax poetic about the depths of this connection. But I won't uber romanticize this relationship because like all relationships in nature there are ups and downs, ebbs and flows, cycles, contradictions and paradoxes. An entire cosmic realm that contains both good and evil. This is what makes our bond complete and utterly real and tragic and mysterious--all at the same time. See, now I've gone and waxed some poetic, which I said I wasn't going to.

But what makes Maya my Maya is the way only she could make me laugh. We were in boarding school together at the age of 14, a tragic circumstance which only brought us closer together. I rebelled, and she followed suit, making me believe that I was tougher than I looked. Deep down I was just a scared little girl whose seeming fearlessness was only brought on by the strength that her best friend gave her. But no matter how much trouble I got myself into, she never did! Although, I have to mention times like when I cut all her hair off and dyed it a toxic orange--she got into a tad bit of trouble for that. An audible gasp was let out by the entire school and faculty when we both paraded into the main hall for church that day. We were rebels all right.

Most nights she would sneak up to stay with me until the crack of dawn when I was moved into an attic room at the very top of our creepy old boarding house. That arrangement didn't last long when I was spotted swinging off from my window like a crazed suicidal monkey child. I was immediately brought back down to the normal dorms on a normal floor; little did we both know that it was going to be my last day at that school. I was expelled the following morning.

Years have passed since those boarding school days. What's left are fantastic memories carved into our beings--never letting us forget the freedom that our imagination and friendship bestowed on us as little girls that felt trapped in an English boarding school. And even though our paths diverged, taking us both to various cities and countries, we stayed true to our friendship. I remember while I was living in Washington, DC, my mum even gave me a "UK phone call" monthly allowance--we should have called it a monthly "Maya quota". It was spent on long conversations with Maya about our separate adventures, heartaches, pitfalls and highs.

Today, an ocean separates us, yet again. We have spent more time physically apart than living in the same city--or even country! Although, skype has been our saving grace, and has allowed us to stay somewhat connected. In fact, what triggered me to write this blog was a link she posted on my Facebook wall this morning. It was a video of an old song I use to play over and over again in order to perfect a little dance number that involved more of a catwalk strut, up and down our dormitory hallway. Ah bless. No one still can make me laugh and cry at the same time the way Maya does.