Ode to an old friend

As Americans celebrate another Fourth of July, I celebrate an old friend who was born the same day over three decades ago - does that make her sound ancient?!! - and who was upset about my cooking travails (upon reading yesterday's blogpost) that she had to call me early in the morning from across the seas.
A friend who thought she owed some kind of allegiance to the US because she was Born On The Fourth of July, while the rest in her clique favoured the USSR - two of them freshly awakened to the communist ideology and the third because her name somewhat rhymed with Russia. We animatedly took sides as we read the morning papers at our college hostel in the late 80s-early 90s.
We shared our dreams, our aspirations and our fears as we lived five years in the closed confines of a convent hostel and the college in the same premises. Though we were in the same class for our Plus Two college program, it was not until we were thrown into each other's company when we began our undergraduate course in English Language & Literature that I got to know her well. Our friendship blossomed through bickerings, debates and other teenage passions. It stood the test of time as we went our individual ways for further studies. She entered the teaching profession while I found nirvana (to the extent of sleeping on the job) in journalism.
Happy Birthday, Bino.