By Kristin van Ogtrop
Updated January 22, 2015
Rebecca (far left, in her wig) shares a lighter moment with her sister Stephanie.
Elinor Carucci

Last night I was lying in bed thinking about trust. Or Trust, that should be, given the importance of the word. Perhaps I am currently obsessed with trust because our wonderful (and 8 months pregnant) babysitter Christina is leaving at the end of the month, and I am feverishly searching for her replacement. And what endeavor is a bigger exercise (or leap of faith) in trust than that?

I began to compile a list in my head of the number of people I trust completely, implicitly, without question, hesitation, or reservation. The requirements:

  • Must be able to keep any confidence, for as long as is required (forever if necessary)
  • Must be able to protect my interests and act accordingly
  • Must love me despite my many flaws
  • Must forgive me when I act like a jerk

As I completed my mental list I realized there are exactly six people in my life that I really, really trust. Really, really Trust, that is. Only six. Not a big number—but at least it’s manageable.