Just because I rarely catch up with her doesn’t mean I don’t think about her often. Because I do. Every time I drive down Heatherton Road and pass by her area to do the school runs, there’s a certain sense of guilt about not seeing her as often as I should that interrupts Lana del Rey crooning in my car as I resolve to do better if only to appease myself from such feeling.

But then life happens and things happen and the cycle repeats itself as weeks and months go by until Christmastime hits and I scramble to organise a date with her in the hopes that her schedule aligns with mine.

She always makes time for me, though. And in her defense, she doesn’t take my inconsistency against me. She tells me she understands. She knows what it’s like to be making a living and running a household at the same time, albeit with a bit of hint that with proper time management, catchups are not near-impossible at all.

Because as busy as she, too, was when she was my age, she always made the effort to reach out to her friends and that was how her friendships lasted.

That’s one of the reasons why I value and respect her as a mother figure. She tells me the cold hard truth straight up like lemon, lime and bitters.

And I drink it all up with pleasure.

*Raven at 8 & 9 years old