Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes. ~Henry David Thoreau
There are certain emotions that even time and space cannot begin to heal. Even as an adult, I sometimes find myself with my feelings hurt beyond what should be normal for a 35-year-old woman. I take things way too personally, and right or wrong, I have strong opinions that I find hard to keep to myself. All that considered, the past several weeks have been trying at best. I haven’t been writing, and I have needed it. I write because it makes me feel better. I write because it helps me put things into perspective. I write because sometimes putting it on paper is easier than trying to find the words to tell one of my dearest friends that I don’t want her to move away.
Someone I love dearly is moving away from me and from my family. And I know it’s for good reason, and I know that it’s a wonderful opportunity for her and her new husband, but I still hate it. There. I said it. I hate that I won’t be able to call up last minute and ask them to join us for dinner. We won’t be together for holidays or birthdays anymore – at least not many of them, as it’s unlikely we’ll be able to afford traveling to see each other more than once a year or so. But most of all, I hate it for my kids. It makes me sad that they will have two less wonderful, funny people who love them right here in this city. I’m sad that Zoe might not remember having them here for as long as we did, and mostly I’m so, so sad to think that my girls won’t get to know their new baby cousin. That nearly knocks the breath right out of me.
I’m being selfish. I know I am. I’m well aware that in the Skype age we’ll be “seeing” a lot of each other and we won’t ever be more than a phone call or a text away, but still. I’m certain they know we only wish the very best for them, no matter where this road takes them. But that doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier.