Left Behind

My heart is aching a bit this morning. A good friend of mine is moving next week. Far far away.

All my life I've been the one who moves away. In Kindergarten, in 3rd grade. In 8th grade. My Junior year of high school.

I'm realizing how hard it is to be the one who gets left. Especially as an adult - I find that some small (highly irrational) piece of me feels rejected. Like she's deliberately not choosing me for her team.

This friend is my 2nd good friend to move away in 2 years. Adult friends are hard to come by don't you think? Especially for me at this stage of life. Most of my days are full of the not-busy-busyness of raising kids. We're not exactly doing "anything" but it's truly hard to do anything with anyone either. Consequently, friends are precious. This particular friend speaks the language of my heart.

C.S. Lewis writes, "friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: What! You too? I thought that no one but myself..." I knew I liked this girl the first time I heard her tell her reluctantly potty-training child that she would just have to deal with wet shorts at the park because they weren't leaving yet. I felt less alone in my parenting style suddenly and my heart did a fist pump for no-BS mothering.

In true mom-fashion I can't find a single picture of the two of us. Maybe we'll have to take one before she rolls out of the 'hood in her minivan. In this digital age I know we'll keep up through Instagram and Facebook and our blogs, so I'm not worried I'll miss out on her life. I'm just sad she won't be a daily part of mine anymore.