Posts
In the old blogging days, I would spend days and nights on end working on posts in my head consciously and otherwise until I knew the would come out just right. For an example: This Post about Happiness. I haven't done any of that, the thinking, that is, but it is my usual writing time, 4am, so here we go.
I miss Portland with all my heart sometimes. We have a magnet in the shape of the state of Oregon with a green heart in the middle. The company calls it, "I left my heart in Oregon". Weep. I spoke to a friend whom I've known since 3rd grade, who is currently a Portland resident along with her amazing fiance whom I've also had a long history with. She spoke the exact words I needed to hear. "This is just one of your homes. When you visit, it will just be coming home for awhile."
She would know, if anyone. She has had so many homes I'm not even sure she could count them, but Antarctica is included.
When I think of the core of our friendship I am transported back to an evening to early morning on a beach in the Bahamas, age 14?, 15?. We were so entranced by the waves, the darkness, the ships far in the distance, and that we were HERE! (Believe it or not, part of a Marching Band trip. How awesome is that?)
So I'm not sure I can remember a word of what we talked about, but the feeling comes back in an instant, in the quiet of the morning at times. Complete peace. Nirvana, if you'll allow me. I'm sure I have pictures of me with my entire head braided by a local woman who carried hair products on the beach, but I don't need them because the memory is so strong. We already loved each other, and had for a long time, but if anyone else would have been there the magic would have disappeared. Our friendship was cemented, again, as if that were necessary.
A few years later, a church trip to Paris. Heaven. We were partnered to stay in hotel rooms and host families and every night, exhaustion heavy on our eyelids, she would coax me to journal, just a bit. I can't thank her enough. I have half of a scrapbook from the trip that I can't finish because nothing would do it justice. I wouldn't have even been there, one of the most formative and amazing experiences of my life if it weren't for her. Kids with single Moms just don't sign up for trips that cost thousands of dollars, but she knew I could do it and with hard work and fundraising, I did.
Even though we had these unbelievable times away from home, I also think mostly of times at the house in Glenshire. Her parents never objected to me coming over, sometimes for more than one night, and her mom would stock the pantry with things she noticed I enjoyed. Her dad is one of those obnoxious morning people who sing (!) and throw pair after pair of rolled up tube socks to get us up just in time for school, usually just a few hours after we went to bed. Of course we moaned and complained, but that is a fond memory to this day. (We often slept together in a twin bed. How we managed that I can't imagine. Skinny teenagers, who I'm sure thought they were overweight at the time.) Often I had a paper due the next day or day after and her family would let me stay up all hours of the night, typing and fretting. I don't remember a single time when this friend went to bed before I finished, and her encouragement was (and still is) neverending.
Recently, I spent an entire day crying (Super Bowl Sunday). When I say an entire day, I'm not exaggerating. I'm always terrified of letting go because I'm afraid I'll never stop. I put on Angels in America to distract me from my physical therapy workout and just lost it. I'm sure she could barely understand me on the phone but even though I have been a horribly delinquent friend, (we're talking 6+ months) it didn't matter. I am a part of her family as much as they are of mine. Nothing can change that. Certainly not distance or time.
That's the way it's always been. We were inseparable at one time, for many years. We were the exact same height for a few years and although we don't look much alike, people called us by each others' name or just said "the twins". I was never offended when someone was blushing and apologizing profusely for calling me by her name. I honestly was heartbroken when I grew just a few inches while she stayed the same height.
I revered her and still do. She is the bravest person I know, spending literally years of her life moving from place to place, foreign countries included, to work a job with all new people. She makes friends instantly because it's impossible not to love her.
Right now she's planning a long-distance wedding which of course poses the problem of coordinating bachlorette party, shower, etc. because there's only so many places she can be at once. But when I think about it, she has friends all over the world. There is not a single place that could accommodate everyone. Unfortunately, we probably won't be having one of her showers in New Zealand, for example. Even her parents don't live exactly in her childhood hometown. But somehow, she goes on. Home is where she is right then.
For me, home is where she is right then, too. Even after all these years. I wrote This Post about another friend, who is still light-years away in Vermont.
The theme of this blog was meant to be essentially: Should I stay or should I go? And I feel I've come full circle, moving back to the motherland, but that doesn't change a thing. We chose "go", but might not ever have all of our closest friends nearby. I'm trying to be okay with that, but I think I'm going to have to hear a lot more wise words from the amazing ALC. (Soon to be ALB) :)
