Last night I was sitting on a patio by the lake, the sun was half-way set behind the mountains, the lake was placid and gleaming, there was a musician strumming his way through a Counting Crows song, a plate of delicious food was before me, I was surrounded by a dozen beautiful friends, the baby in my belly was rolling around my insides, the restaurant was bursting with conversations, people were laughing and sipping their cool drinks, and I sat across the table from a dear friend who will be moving away in a mere five days: bittersweetness at its finest.
(Photo taken by Angella.)
I am not ready to write this post. To say good-bye to Christy. My eyes well up with tears and I can feel my face contorting into the Ugly Cry even as I type these words.
For the past three years, I have seen Christy almost everyday. Our friendship began when she was a mother of two and I had yet to venture into the land of parenthood. Watching her with her children is what sparked my desire to have kids of my own. She was patient and her home was always a haven of rest and hospitality. I would have lunch at her house on my break from work everyday. She didn’t mind that I was always hungry and rustling through her cupboards to eat all of her roasted red pepper stoned wheat thin crackers and half a brick of her cheese. She listened to my struggles and shared her own, and we realized that we had fought many of the same battles and were able to encourage one another not to give up. When I got pregnant, she was overjoyed and answered all my questions about the strange things going on in my body. And she didn’t protest when I started to eat the whole box of crackers and entire bricks of her cheese. When I had Avelyn she came to hospital with a group of our friends and brought me trashy magazines and chocolate bars. Then she let me hang out at her house everyday and we played the Stay At Home Mom game together everyday, watching our kids grow and trying to figure out this thing called life. She has been my center for so long, the friend I turn to when I am ready to pull my hair out, the person I can trust my secrets with, the woman I admire and love.
When I went to pick up a jug of milk from the grocery store and it was only 9:30 in the morning and I was wondering how on earth I was going to keep Avelyn entertained for the rest of the day, we would go to Christy’s house and the hours would pass by, filled with fun and laughter. It was Avelyn’s second home and Christy didn’t mind that I was now also rooting through her pantry for crumbs for my rowdy toddler, as well as my own hungry belly.
Whenever we drove past Christy’s cul-de-sac and didn’t turn in to stop for a visit, Avelyn would cry. She is going to be crying a lot in the next few weeks.
And so will I.