I've had a house guest this week.  Rebecca Perkins.  She lives in Dallas and stays with me when she has business in Oklahoma City.  I love having guests.  

However the people who stay with me aren't guests, they are friends.  They let themselves in, go to the guest room, unload their stuff and make themselves at home.

They know that I'm not going to cook and usually bring groceries to suit their taste and shove stuff around in the fridge.  (Sometimes I cook--not often.)

We talk, or we don't talk.  Mostly sit in a convivial silence with an occasional remark.  We know everything about each other anyway.

Becky Bacon said, "I'm coming to your house so we can sit around and not talk."  Those are the best kind of friends.

Yesterday my conversation was: (as I was doing the crossword puzzle) "What was the Beach Boys top hit?"  Rebecca and I ran through their hits, neither of us could come up with it.  I filled in the answer later when the answer popped into my head.

Carolyn says people ask her what we talked about on the phone.  She told me she has to say, "I have no idea."  Which is true.  I don't have any idea what we talk about either.

That's how it is with good friends.  You can talk for an hour, solve the world's problems, and be ready to do it all again the next day.

I love my friends.