On childhood friendships, familiar conversations, and a best friend who deserves an award for listening to the same stories repeatedly.

There are people who deserve medals for their achievements, and then there are people who deserve medals for putting up with us. Personally, I believe the second category has been terribly neglected by award-giving institutions. Imagine listening to somebody tell the same story for the seventeenth time, remembering the ending better than the storyteller, and still managing to produce an expression of genuine interest. That requires patience, dedication, and possibly a medical assessment of one’s tolerance for repetition. I happen to know somebody who has mastered this remarkable ability. Her name is Farah Shane, and for reasons I have never fully understood, she continues to consider me her best friend.

I suppose I should introduce her properly before she decides to file a complaint about the description. Shane is my childhood best friend, my confidante, my unofficial adviser, and the unfortunate recipient of countless conversations about my life and love stories. She has known me through different stages of growing up, which means she possesses an alarming amount of information about my personality, questionable decisions, and occasional dramatic tendencies. If somebody ever decided to write an unauthorised biography of my life, Shane would probably be their most valuable source. Fortunately, she is also one of the people I trust most, so I am hoping she will continue exercising excellent discretion.

After nine months without seeing each other, we finally had the opportunity to spend time together again. Nine months! That is long enough for an entire human being to develop before making an appearance in the world, yet apparently two best friends can spend the same amount of time apart and resume their conversations as though somebody merely interrupted us yesterday. I find that rather amusing. So much can happen within nine months. Our schedules change, responsibilities accumulate, and life introduces new experiences that demand our attention. But when I am finally reunited with Shane, the unfamiliar distance between our last meeting and the present seems to disappear remarkably quickly.

There is something reassuring about friendships that do not require elaborate introductions after a period of separation. With some people, you feel the need to explain everything that has happened since your last conversation, almost as though you are submitting a progress report. You begin with the important events, arrange them chronologically, and attempt to provide enough background information to make the story understandable. With Shane, however, I can usually begin somewhere in the middle, become distracted by a completely unrelated subject, and eventually return to the original conversation without either of us becoming particularly concerned about the disorder. She knows enough about my life to follow most of my stories, and when she does not, she has developed the patience to ask for clarification.

I think one of the most valuable things about having a childhood best friend is that she remembers versions of you that newer friends have never encountered. People who meet me today know the person I have become through my experiences in school, nursing, and the ordinary business of growing older. Shane, however, has known me since childhood. She has witnessed parts of my personality that developed long before I began thinking seriously about careers and adult responsibilities. There is something both comforting and mildly dangerous about being understood by somebody who has had so many years to collect evidence.

She knows that I can become terribly enthusiastic about certain things, only to discover that the situation is considerably more complicated than I first imagined. She knows that I enjoy sharing stories, particularly when something has captured my attention or confused my emotions. And she understands that a conversation I introduce as a brief update may develop into an extensive discussion involving several characters, unnecessary background information, and a conclusion I have probably mentioned on a previous occasion.

In fairness, I believe every friendship needs at least one person who enjoys talking and another who is willing to listen. Otherwise, everybody would be delivering speeches and nobody would know what anyone else was saying. Shane has often been the listener in our little arrangement, although I certainly hope I have given her plenty of opportunities to share her own stories as well. Friendship should never become a permanent audience-and-performer relationship, even when one person possesses enough material to justify several seasons of a television drama.

And speaking of drama, my love stories have apparently become recurring episodes in the Farah Shane Listening Programme. I can tell her about the same situation more than once, revisit conversations that have already been analysed, and ask questions whose answers we have probably discussed in considerable detail. Somehow, she continues listening. I sometimes wonder whether she secretly maintains written notes so she can keep track of the developments. Perhaps there is an imaginary folder somewhere labelled Anj’s Life and Love Stories: Revised Edition, With Additional Commentary. If such a document exists, I sincerely hope it is kept confidential.

But beyond the teasing, I appreciate how much it means to have somebody who listens without making me feel that my thoughts are an inconvenience. We all experience moments when we want to talk about something that has been occupying our minds, even when the subject may seem repetitive to other people. Sometimes we are not looking for an extraordinary solution. We simply want to organise our thoughts, hear another perspective, or share something with a person whose opinion matters to us. Shane has been that person for me on many occasions, and I am grateful for the patience and understanding she has shown throughout our friendship.

I also appreciate that she understands my personality without expecting me to explain every little detail. I am not always the easiest person to understand, particularly when my thoughts become complicated or my opinions are expressed with more enthusiasm than necessary. There are times when I want company and other times when I am perfectly content with my own space. I can be sentimental about certain memories while laughing at something completely ridiculous only moments later. Somehow, Shane has become familiar with these contradictions and seems to regard them as ordinary features of being my friend.

Perhaps that is what happens when two people have known each other for so long. They gradually learn how the other person thinks, what matters to them, and which subjects are likely to inspire lengthy conversations. They recognise the difference between an ordinary complaint and something that genuinely requires attention. They become comfortable enough to be honest, even when honesty involves disagreeing with one another. And they understand that a friendship does not need to be constantly demonstrated through dramatic declarations to remain meaningful.

One thing I have noticed about our friendship is that we do not always have the opportunity to see each other. We have our own responsibilities, schedules, and personal circumstances, and there are periods when meeting up becomes difficult. Sometimes we do not talk as frequently as we would like, either. I know that certain people believe best friends should communicate every day, exchange updates continuously, and possess enough photographs together to produce an impressive documentary. If those are the official requirements, I am afraid Shane and I may need to request an exemption.

We have never been particularly successful at documenting every occasion when we are together. In fact, considering how long we have known each other, the number of photographs we possess is rather disappointing. One might reasonably assume that two childhood best friends would have accumulated an enormous collection of pictures by now. But apparently, we have spent far too much time talking and laughing to remember that somebody should occasionally take out a camera. It is an embarrassing oversight, especially for someone like me who enjoys taking photographs and preserving ordinary moments.

Imagine having years of friendship to remember and discovering that the photographic evidence is suspiciously limited. If we were ever required to prove how long we have known one another, we might have to rely upon personal testimonies and a collection of childhood memories. Fortunately, friendship does not require documentary evidence, although I suspect future generations would appreciate having a few photographs to accompany our stories.

This time, however, we decided to correct that little problem.

Since we had finally reunited after nine months, we agreed that the occasion deserved a proper best-friend pictorial. Yes, a pictorial! Not merely one hurried photograph taken before somebody announces that it is time to leave, but an opportunity to pose, enjoy ourselves, and behave with the delightful vanity that occasionally accompanies having a camera nearby. I believe the official term for our activity should be vainish BFF pictorials, because nothing else quite captures the combination of friendship, confidence, and mild ridiculousness involved.

I find it funny how people change when a camera appears. A perfectly ordinary conversation can suddenly become an exercise in arranging hair, adjusting positions, and deciding which angle looks most flattering. Somebody suggests a pose, somebody else laughs, and before long the entire activity becomes more entertaining than the original purpose of taking photographs. I suspect professional photographers would have strong opinions about our methods, but we were hardly attempting to produce a magazine cover. We simply wanted pictures of ourselves together, something we could keep and look back upon when another long interval had passed.

And I was determined that we would not finish the day without proper evidence.

After all, nine months is a terribly long time to wait for another opportunity to take photographs with your best friend.

There is something wonderfully amusing about knowing someone since childhood and then posing together as young adults. We have changed in many ways since the years when our friendship first began. We have grown older, developed different responsibilities, and gained experiences that have gradually shaped our personalities. Yet when we are together, familiar habits seem to return with remarkable ease. I can still recognise the girl I have known for years, even as I appreciate the person she is becoming.

I suppose this is one of the loveliest aspects of long friendships. You get to witness somebody’s life as it changes, even when you are not present for every event. You hear about their experiences, celebrate their accomplishments, and gradually discover new sides of their personality. The person you knew as a child does not remain exactly the same, and neither do you. Yet the friendship can continue to accommodate those changes, provided both people remain willing to understand one another.

I sometimes think we place too much importance on how frequently friends see each other. Of course, spending time together matters, and friendships need attention. But I do not believe the number of meetings automatically determines how meaningful a relationship is. Some people can see each other every day without developing much understanding beyond ordinary familiarity. Others may spend long periods apart yet remain deeply connected through years of shared experiences, mutual trust, and the effort they make whenever circumstances allow them to reconnect.

For Shane and me, those nine months apart did not erase the years of friendship that came before them. We still had things to talk about, jokes to exchange, and memories to revisit. There was no need to begin our friendship again simply because our schedules had kept us apart. We were still the same two people who had grown accustomed to one another’s personalities, and I found that wonderfully reassuring.

What matters to me is not whether we can provide a complete record of every conversation or photograph every occasion when we meet. It is knowing that our friendship has survived the ordinary changes that accompany growing up. We have each been occupied with different responsibilities, and I expect that life will continue introducing circumstances that make regular meetings difficult. But I hope we will remain willing to make time for one another whenever possible, without allowing the distance between meetings to become a measure of how much we care.

I also want Shane to know how proud I am to call her my best friend. There are people who become important to us because they are present during a particular stage of our lives, and there are others whose influence extends across several stages. Shane belongs to the second category. She has been part of my childhood memories and remains someone I want to share experiences with as we grow older. I appreciate her understanding, her patience, and the familiar comfort of knowing that I can speak to her about things that matter to me.

She is also my number one fan, despite the unfortunate fact that I am not an actress.

This is a particularly generous position for her to occupy, considering that my performances are generally limited to dramatic storytelling, exaggerated reactions, and occasionally behaving as though an ordinary personal inconvenience deserves its own television special. Still, every aspiring star needs at least one loyal supporter, and Shane has been fulfilling that responsibility without receiving payment, public recognition, or even complimentary tickets. Truly, her dedication deserves applause.

I wonder whether she realises how much I appreciate these little things. Sometimes we become so accustomed to the presence of people who understand us that we forget to tell them what their friendship means. We assume they already know because we have spent years together, laughed at familiar jokes, and shared conversations that would make very little sense to outsiders. But perhaps affection deserves to be expressed occasionally, even when the people involved are perfectly capable of teasing one another immediately afterwards.

I want her to know that I value her companionship beyond the entertaining stories and photographs. I appreciate having somebody who has seen different sides of my personality and remained willing to understand me. I appreciate the times she has listened, the moments we have laughed, and the memories we continue creating despite the demands of our individual lives. Most of all, I appreciate the kind of familiarity that allows us to be ourselves without feeling the need to manufacture a more impressive version of who we are.

Perhaps that is why I call her my soul sister.

We are not sisters by blood, but our friendship has developed a closeness that makes the description feel appropriate. There are bonds we inherit through family, and there are others we develop through the people who become important to us over time. A childhood friend who continues accompanying us into adulthood occupies a particularly meaningful place because she has known our earlier selves while remaining interested in who we are becoming.

I do not know exactly what the coming years will bring for either of us. We may become busier, pursue opportunities in different places, and discover responsibilities that make spontaneous gatherings increasingly difficult. Perhaps we will spend another nine months apart, or even longer, depending upon where life takes us. I would certainly prefer more frequent reunions, especially now that we have finally remembered the importance of taking photographs.

But whatever happens, I hope we will continue finding reasons to meet again.

I imagine that one day we may look back upon these pictures and laugh at the poses we considered attractive in 2013. We may question our hairstyles, our expressions, and our extraordinary dedication to looking presentable in front of a camera. Perhaps some photographs will become particularly embarrassing, in which case I trust Shane to exercise the same discretion I expect from her regarding my personal stories. Friendship, after all, should include a reasonable commitment to protecting one another from unnecessary public humiliation.

Yet I suspect we will treasure those photographs regardless of how amusing they eventually become.

They will remind us of a reunion after nine months apart, an afternoon spent enjoying each other’s company, and the decision to preserve something we had previously allowed to pass without much photographic evidence. They will also remind us of who we were at this particular stage of our lives: two young women with different responsibilities, familiar personalities, and a friendship that had already accompanied us through many years.

Perhaps the pictures will eventually become more meaningful than we can appreciate today. Time has a way of changing how we look at ordinary things. A photograph that seems merely amusing now may later remind us of conversations we have forgotten, places we no longer visit, and a period of life that once felt wonderfully ordinary. I suppose that is why I enjoy preserving these little moments. They allow us to return, however briefly, to occasions we might otherwise remember only in fragments.

Still, I do not want to suggest that the photographs are what make our friendship valuable. We had very few pictures together before this reunion, and that did not make the years we shared any less meaningful. Our memories have always existed beyond what a camera could capture. There are conversations that no photograph could explain, jokes that require far too much background information, and moments of understanding that were never intended for an audience.

Perhaps that is the lovely contradiction of our little pictorial. We decided to take photographs because we realised how few we possessed, yet the reason we had so few was that we were usually too occupied enjoying our time together to remember the camera.

I think there is something rather wonderful about that.

Of course, now that we have discovered the joys of documenting our friendship, I suspect future meetings may involve a slightly more organised approach. We should probably take at least a few pictures before becoming distracted by our conversations. Perhaps we could even establish a rule requiring photographic evidence before anybody is permitted to begin telling a lengthy story. Although, knowing myself, I would probably violate that regulation within the first five minutes.

And Shane would patiently listen anyway.

That, I think, is what makes her so special to me.

Nine months have passed since we last spent time together, and I am grateful that our reunion reminded me how easily genuine companionship can feel familiar again. We may not see each other often, and we may not always have the opportunity to talk at length, but the years of friendship between us have given ordinary meetings a significance that cannot be measured simply by their frequency.

I began this entry joking about the extraordinary patience required to remain my best friend. The more I think about it, however, the more I realise that patience is only one part of what Shane has given me. She has offered understanding, companionship, honesty, and the reassurance of having someone who knows my personality without expecting me to explain myself constantly. Those are qualities I value deeply, particularly as life becomes busier and the opportunities to spend time with childhood friends grow less frequent.

Perhaps one day, when we are considerably older, we will sit together looking through these photographs and wonder why we felt the need to pose quite so enthusiastically. We may laugh at our younger selves and remember the afternoon when we decided that years of friendship deserved a proper pictorial. I imagine there will be plenty to discuss by then, especially if my talent for collecting complicated life stories continues developing at its present rate.

Poor Shane. She really has no idea how many future episodes she has signed up for.

But perhaps that is the privilege of having a soul sister. She knows that the stories will continue, the conversations may become repetitive, and the occasional dramatic update is practically guaranteed. And somehow, she remains part of my life, even when months pass between our meetings.

So here is to my childhood best friend, Farah Shane, the girl who understands my peculiar personality, patiently listens to my endless stories, and continues supporting me despite my complete failure to become the actress she apparently believes deserves a number one fan. Thank you for the laughter, the memories, and the kind of friendship that has accompanied me through different stages of growing up. I hope the years ahead bring us more opportunities to spend time together, create wonderful memories, and take photographs that our future selves can admire or laugh at.

As for our latest pictorial, I am delighted that we finally have something to show for our reunion beyond a collection of stories that only the two of us can fully understand. We may not have hundreds of childhood photographs, but we have years of friendship behind us and, I hope, many more memories waiting ahead.

And if anybody wonders why we are posing so enthusiastically in these pictures, please understand that we are simply correcting several years of photographic negligence.

Nine months apart, countless stories to catch up on, and one best friend who still hasn’t learned to charge me for listening.

For my soul sister, Farah Shane — my childhood best friend, my favourite audience, and one of the loveliest constants in my ever-changing life.

— Super Anj, proudly starring in another episode of a friendship that never needed a script.