Tomorrow, my very bestest best friend moves away. She's moving to New Mexico, and I know, I know... it's not the end of the earth. It's not even a different country, and it's not halfway around the world.
But it's too far for me. It's too far for me to call her and say, "Hey, I'm gonna drop off those pictures/boxes/gifts/papers/random objects you wanted, and I'll see you in a minute, okay?" And it's too far for me to run over and snap pictures of Catherine's first days of preschool/kindergarten because I'm just as excited and happy and thrilled for her as she is. And it's too far for me to take my kids trick-or-treating like we've done every year because her neighborhood is more awesome than mine. And it's too far for me to be there for John's first birthday in time. And it's too far for me to make Thanksgiving dinner and give her some of our ham because she never makes it herself, yet she craves it sometimes.
And it's too far for us to throw silly birthday parties together for our joint-birthday. And it's too far for me to do all the tours and house-shopping with her. It's too far for me to help her unpack her kitchen and put everything in just-so places, and for us to see a rainbow together while doing so. And it's too far for me to see Catherine stomping around in her froggy shoes, and for me to teach John all the wonders of Coca-Cola. It's too far for me to get to hug their little arms and kiss their little cheeks. And it's too far for me to baby-sit her precious kiddos while she runs an errand, and to feed them too many mandarin oranges. It's also too far for me to kitty-sit for "Hidey" Milo and "Escapee" Tasha.
And it's too far for us to go on vacation, and then bring back Chick-Fil-A for each other, dropping it by each other's house on our way back home. And it's too far for her to make it to all the boys' school concerts. And to all their book fairs. And their carnivals. And their birthdays. And now I'm just being selfish again...
It's too far for me to fall into her arms when I need her hugs - her special, 'we-don't-do-it-all-the-time-but-she-tou
This past Friday, the 25th of September, marked seven years to the day that I first walked across the street and introduced myself to Heather. These seven years have been the very best and worst times of my life, and she's been there for every second of it. I can't imagine any of it differently, and I can't imagine it without her. She's in every part of my scrapbook, every part of my life, and she holds a very, very special place in my heart.
Two weeks ago, Catherine and I chatted on the phone. I'd been talking to her mama, and she wanted to say something special. When she was ready to get off, she said, "I love you." And I know I will get to hear her say that on the phone now, but I'm sad for all the goodbye hugs and sweet, goodbye kisses on my cheek that I'll miss.
And I know that New Mexico isn't the end of the earth. I know that I'll trip to see her, and she'll trip to see me. And I know that we'll have to pick certain events/holidays to travel and share with one another, and that we'll always have internet and phonecalls.
But it's too far not to still hurt, and to hurt so deeply.
Lastly, it's too far for me to ever have a chance at being even half the friend and family to her that she has been to me. She is my sister, and she's not too far away to love.
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