A Weighty Compliment

Two different people have recently told me (in the course of conversation; believe me, I didn't ask) that I am their best friend.  Both are very close friends of mine, so I guess it really shouldn't have surprised me, but I hadn't previously given it any thought.  There's enough of the guarded kid who moved around a lot in me that I always hold a small piece of myself back out of habit even now, so I think that maybe the thing that surprised me the most was that these friends would put themselves out there enough to say it in the first place?  The interesting thing is that of the three of us, I am by far the most extroverted, although by no means an extrovert per se.   The acquired defense of the peripatetic child, perhaps.

At any rate, these are both people whose real friendship is hard to earn and well worth the earning, so I'm a lucky woman.  I wonder, though: does it make me strange that the label feels like it comes with a sort of pressure??  I could just take the compliment and run with it, but clearly my brain is still working this one through.  After all, this is my hometown now.  Good or bad, I'm here for the duration, and these friends are likely here for the duration too...not at all the way I grew up, so an adjustment for me.

Oh well.  Thoughts from (as Ms. Moon would put it) the Church Of The Batshit Crazy on a rainy Sunday night.