Good Friends & Shit In The Garden

When you’re in primary school, good friends are the ones who share their cool ruler with you. You might go round for dinner, to play and spend the weekend in the park. As you get older, and you change into who you might be one day, good friends change too. It might be the girl who has fantastic eyebrows or the one who dresses grunge, or the clown – you find some piece of common ground.

Add some hormones into the mix and the next thing you know there are mass fallouts, broken hearts, fights and snubbing like you’ve never seen. And, some of those friendships remain intact for years. Inevitably though, there are some people that you gave your last tampon and 2’s on a ciggy to that you lost touch with altogether.

Facebook has made it easy for us to keep the plasters on broken friendships and send the obligatory ‘happy birthday’ and like at least 65 photos a year. Because, well, you’re friends of course!

Then there are those that come later. They spring up like weeds. Out of nowhere and they are deep-rooted. It’s often spoken about just how lonely motherhood can be for millions of us. I’ve always been one to relish my own company, but sometimes you need to tell people stuff.

I don’t need to tag or name or share this with my weeds, they know who they are. But, how did I end up with these weeds? Well, somehow I managed to find myself in the right place, at the right time. I always thought that you could just make friends like you do in school. Be in a place of work or learning and find people like you – or very much not like you.

But, as it happens, I met them by meeting two people who are total cuntbags, getting in a big group chat with cuntbags, and finally, somehow ended up in a little group of the most fragrant weeds you’ll ever meet.

The beauty of it is that we don’t all see eye to eye, we talk and bicker and express opinions, share memes and miscarriages, support when life kicks them in the fanny, and they can’t do anything that day. This morning another human took a shit in one of their gardens, and this conversation happened in unison with finding love and talking about how fantastic we all are.

There isn’t much point to this post, but there doesn’t need to be. I’ve got friends who tell me a human shit in their front garden – and that is pretty fucking cool.

Zara

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