Linda Lavin, the iconic actress best known for her role as Alice on the beloved sitcom *Alice*, has recently opened up about a memory so touching and profound that she admits it brings her to tears every time she recalls it.

Her story is not simply about fame, television, or nostalgia.

It is about friendship, loyalty, and the unshakable bond she shared with her co-star Polly Holliday, who played the unforgettable Flo.

For decades, audiences loved Flo’s sassy spirit and her famous catchphrase “Kiss my grits!” but behind the laughter and applause was a woman with layers of vulnerability, resilience, and grace.

Linda’s recollection is not just about a television moment—it is about the kind of connection that defines a lifetime.

Linda remembers the first time she met Polly as a moment of instant recognition, almost as if they had known each other in another life.

Polly had this larger-than-life personality that made everyone in the room light up, but she also carried a quiet sensitivity that only those closest to her could see.

Linda quickly became one of those people.

On set, they shared long hours of rehearsals, bloopers, and the endless retakes that come with making a sitcom.

But off set, in the quiet spaces between fame and work, their friendship blossomed.

They leaned on each other through personal struggles, whispered secrets in dressing rooms, and celebrated each other’s victories, both professional and personal.

Linda recalls Polly as the kind of friend who could make her laugh until her stomach hurt and then, in the same breath, offer the kind of wisdom that stayed with her forever.

The memory that Linda now shares, the one that still moves her to tears, is tied to a moment of profound vulnerability between the two women.

It happened late one evening after a particularly grueling day of filming.

Polly, usually so vibrant and fiery, looked uncharacteristically quiet.

Linda noticed immediately and gently asked what was wrong.

Polly hesitated, clearly battling whether to open up, and then finally let her guard down.

She spoke about the pressure she felt, the weight of expectations, and the loneliness that fame sometimes brings.

She admitted that behind her tough, funny exterior, she often felt unseen in ways that mattered most to her heart.

Linda sat with her, held her hand, and listened with all the compassion she could give.

She remembers telling Polly that she was more than Flo, more than her television persona—she was a woman of depth, kindness, and brilliance who mattered to so many, especially to her.

That moment of raw honesty forged an even deeper bond between them.

Linda recalls Polly looking at her with tears in her eyes and whispering, “Thank you for seeing me.”

It was a simple phrase, but one that carried the weight of years of silence, of putting on a brave face for the world.

That memory has stayed with Linda all these years, and she confesses that whenever it comes back to her, she cannot help but cry.

It is not a memory of sadness alone, but of beauty, of intimacy, and of the kind of friendship that shapes who we are.

Over time, as careers shifted and lives changed, Linda and Polly continued to keep in touch.

Even when they were not in the same city or working together, their bond endured.

Phone calls, letters, and occasional visits reminded them both that their connection was unbreakable.

Linda has often said that what made Polly so extraordinary was not only her talent but her humanity.

She was funny, yes, but she was also deeply compassionate, curious about life, and devoted to the people she loved.

Looking back, Linda feels an immense sense of gratitude for the years she had with Polly.

She knows that fans will always remember Flo as the fiery waitress with the sharp tongue and unforgettable one-liners, but Linda wants the world to know that behind that character was a woman of extraordinary depth.

The memory she carries of Polly confiding in her, of letting her true self be seen, is something she treasures more than applause, ratings, or awards.

It is the kind of memory that reminds us all what matters most in life—not the spotlight, but the relationships we build and the love we share.

When Linda says, “I cry every time I remember it,” it is not only because the moment was tender, but because it revealed the truth of who Polly was: a woman who craved to be seen, understood, and loved beyond the stage lights.

It is also because that night sealed their friendship in a way nothing else could.

For Linda, that memory is a gift, a reminder that even in the midst of fame and chaos, what we remember most are the quiet, human moments when someone lets us see their soul.

And for audiences who adored Polly Holliday as Flo, Linda’s story is a touching reminder that behind the catchphrases and laughter was a woman whose greatest legacy might just be the love she gave and the friendships she left behind.