Four weeks ago, I had a rather sad conversation with one of my best friends who informed me that she was moving...14 hours away...in four weeks. Last night, after four weeks of squeezing in as much time with her as possible (including packing boxes--it's an art form; one I have good skills at), I said goodbye.
You would think after 28 years of moving, or other people moving, I would be used to this pattern of comings and goings and saying goodbye. But I'm not. I still hate it.
It's a navy blue day.
1 comment:
You'd think. I guess I'm used to it: used to really not liking it. It's the price of friendship.
I am sorry (English sorry). Love you sis!
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