During a recent conversation among several of us, one of my co-workers proclaimed, "I know you. I know you well." I immediately wondered what it was she thought she knew, but then I felt pleased. If anyone should know me, it would be this woman I have worked with off and on for thirteen years. I know her, too, at least as much as I know anyone. For me, knowing and being known is one of the perks, and comforts, of working at the same place for a long time. These people who see me day in and day out, the ones with whom I share anything important in my life, good or bad, are indeed the ones who know me best. In my line of work, there is no room for superficiality, and we openly discuss and reveal just about everything. We learn about each other by the stories we swap and comparisons we make, from observing how we treat others, how we respond to difficult situations, and how we communicate. Due to retirement and other life changes, staff slowly turns over, and other friendly, open people come in as replacements, and we get to know each other. With the special people I have been with for over thirteen years, a really long time in my book, I think it is like going from kindergarten to graduating from high school. I really am glad we know each other well.