What money can’t fix: the scars left by a friend
I stood at the check-in counter of my physician’s office, waiting for my yearly physical. Beside me, another patient was checking in. I recognized her instantly.
It was Denise—my childhood best friend.
And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to say hello.
We had spent our childhoods side by side—playing Barbies, cheerleading, swimming at the neighborhood pool. Every single day. She wasn’t just a friend; she was my safe place. We stayed close all …