Zunie

Lately, I've been getting back in touch with my best friend. We've only met twice but there is really no one that understands me more than she. We share the same sense of crude humor, randomness, non-filtered ramblings and deep sense of family. It's the type of bond that can only be because of the situations we were in. I think the closest thing I can think this relate to is being in the military. I met Kimmy up in Alaska when I worked at a cannery up there for the summer seasons. If you have ever worked in a cannery, you'll know what I mean. There is cannery world and then there is the real world. The end of the season always means being in the real world and readjusting to "civillian" life. Manual labor is hard, working 18 hours a day is difficult and when you're confined to an inlet that is only accessible by seaplanes and ships, you get to know each other pretty well.

I miss the numerous time that Kimmy and I would take the hot plate (a science instrument that heats up on a flat surface) back to our room, cover it with tin foil and make quesidillas. We were given dorm food every meal but most of the time, we preferred to eat in our room, laughing and scratching our tummies. Sometimes, we would forget to bring the hot plate back to the dorms and on those rainy cold nights, we would take our hair dryers and melt those quesos on high. There were a few times we shorted the entire dorm but those quesidillas tasted so good.

My second and last season, Kimmy left the cannery 2 weeks earlier than I did. I grew so depressed, that the company gave me a room of my own in a house, away from the dormitory. It actually didn't really make things any better and I demanded to return to Portland earlier than planned as well. I don't think I'll ever see Kimmy again, she lives in Zunie, New Mexico where she takes care of sick and dying patients and go home to a 2 year old.

I don't really believe in best friends but she may be the closet thing I know of it.