Rain, Wool Socks and a Good Friend

We stood there for over an hour, occasionally shifting our body weight from leg to leg to keep the blood flowing. I gripped my coffee, hoping its heat would transfer into more than just my fingertips. She pulled her jacket tighter to her thin frame. Despite the cold weather, we stayed on the sidewalk, exposed to the elements, and we talked. One conversation would interrupt the last, not allowing that topic to come to a close. If I didn't have a test for which to prepare and if she hadn't had a piece of her forehead biopsied an hour prior, I think we would have remained in that spot on the sidewalk speaking about life until the sun had released itself from our sky. It was in that moment that I realized she was no longer my mom; she was my closest friend.