Matthew Broderick was right. “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.”

When I found I had missed four calls within 20 minutes Friday from Rachel, I wondered how she found the time to call once, let alone repeatedly.

I met my best friend when I was in third grade.

Our friendship didn’t blossom immediately; it was a long process of ups and downs. My being prone to jealousy and her being taller, blonder and thinner than anyone within a mile’s radius should be made for some uncomfortable conflicts.

At some point, though, I got over myself and realized that Rachel was, at the risk of sounding like a Hallmark card, one of the best friends I could have asked for.

We are nearly polar opposites in many ways, but I think that’s what held us together a lot of times. She taught me to put on make-up, to flirt without being too obvious and to avoid polo shirts that made me look like a boy. Having grown up in the country, she also taught me to embrace the presence of mud, hard work and farm animals.

As an only child, I found it strange (later comforting) to meet her parents and three sisters at the front door. Her mom calls me to this day just to see how I’m doing and make sure I’m taking my vitamins.

My parents all but adopted her as a second child. Rachel and I went on numerous vacations with our families, dressing up and trying to find as many good-looking guys as we could while my parents smiled, shook their heads and looked on as if to say, “oh, girls.”

Frequently, we would sit in front of the TV with a smorgasbord of junk food, watching “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” and laughing until we cried.

More than anything, though, we have an understanding that I can’t define. Rach has always been there for me in every way, and I know I’d do anything for her.

After I left the town in which I did most of my growing up, it got harder to keep in touch. Now, nearly five years after that move, I still don’t see or talk to Rachel as much as I’d like. We’re both going to school and working; we understand that the other is busy. One of the most beautiful things about our friendship is that it’s sustained time, distance and personal changes. I still love her like a sister and can’t help but have a great time when we do find time to spend together.

After I waited nervously through busy signals and voicemails this weekend, she finally answered her phone, and it all made sense.

Rachel’s getting married.

It’s not that I think I’m losing my best friend; that’s hardly the case. I’m thrilled for her, but at the same time, the news confirms something I’d known but didn’t want to acknowledge: we’re getting older and things will inevitably change. Those late nights of talking for hours, not caring how many calories are in the chips we’re eating and taking for granted that we’re only 20 minutes apart at any given moment are over.

It’s strange to think of my best friend being old enough to be married, but it’s even stranger to know that I’m right behind her. It seems like just yesterday we were giggly little girls singing in church or watching each other in high school plays. I realize, though, growing on our own will make growing together that much more interesting.