prolix and confusion: a tribute to bningrid marizzle, my best friend

Ingrid Marie Asplund is my best friend on this entire planet.

One time I left the country for one week without her when I was in tenth grade. That was the worse decision, ever. I ended up getting attacked by a Portuguese man'o'war (better known as the man whore). I remember running up to her, at our reuniting, in sheer excitement where we embraced like long lost lovers. I don't know how it happened, but I totally broke down into tsunami tears, which she gladly absorbed into her shoulder. She muttered, "Me and Jenni are like peas and carrots again." Then added, "oh and never leave me again."

I first met Ingrid when I was eleven. The first time I saw her she was merely a shy little girl, timidly peering into our Sunday school classroom, searching for her older sister. She stayed Eva's little sister for quite some time. At one point, at Eva's birthday party (mere months after meeting them) I sat on the couch, watching the party happen, and Ingrid sat next to me. We sat watching A Walk To Remember and I had the best epiphany of my life. Although, I was a guest at Eva's birthday party, for some reason, the fact that I would someday be Ingrid's best friend would not leave my mind. Turns out that I was correct.

I like to tell people that the biggest fight that I have ever been in with my best friend was over chap stick. I like to say this to make it seem miniscule and inconsequential... when in reality we still don't discuss it. We have definitely forgiven the other for whatever outburst and understand that from that person's perspective, said outburst was most likely warranted, but we simply giggle and change the subject whenever it is brought up.

Once upon a time Ingrid and I went to Mars. I have just decided that I am going to post that narrative on this very blog... after a bit of freshening up, of course.

Occasionally, Ingrid compares herself to others. In elementary school she described herself as being socially retarded. Had I known her in elementary school, I'm sure that would not have stopped me from realizing her awesomeness. During my final year of elementary school, I was sort of wrapped up with being in sixth grade. I had my group of friends and we were going to go to junior high next year. I don't know if you remember, but when you're in sixth grade, you don't mess around with your very unstable social status. Ingrid, Eva and I walked to school every morning together. Eva and I were friends, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Ingrid and I were kindred spirits. But then junior high came around. Fortunately, the universe was looking out for us and brought us back together with the wonderful gift of Walden.

(I took this picture of a photograph that I have of Ingrid when we just started to be the best of friends. I do believe that it was at that very moment that I realized how much I truly love her)

Whenever, where ever, we travel I have always kept a protective eye on her (which doesn't mean that she always needs it). Her mother says that, although, she was a kind and quiet child, she was actually difficult to raise because she was always getting lost. But then, during my senior year of high school, she went to Germany FOR A YEAR... okay, it was actually ten months. It was a pretty difficult time for me, learning how to basically function without her; turns out we have a symbiotic relationship. Germany was the best thing for Ingrid. She came back knowing herself, more confident in her education and more confident in herself. We wrote letters back and forth, and her letters were my favorite parts of my entire senior year of high school. One such letter came in the mail at the most perfect time and warmed my heart. Just looking at the envelope comforted me, and even brought tears to my eyes. The tears were quickly replaced with fits of laughter when I opened the envelope, and as I pulled out the letter, was covered in puffs of purple glitter.

One of my favorite things about Ingrid is that she offers boundless, unyielding support for me. Whatever I want to do in life, she is always there to help make it happen. Whether it is being someone who is there to bounce ideas off of, or someone to talk to for hours on the phone, or to sit with me in a Mexican city square for five hours while I get dreads tied into my hair.

Ingrid is such an amazing free spirit, one of the many reasons that I look up to her. Sometimes her refusal to conform might drive me nuts, but in the end, when I return to