She's going to hate that I wrote about her. She's not going to want to talk about it.
The first time I saw her was six years ago at a Kindergarten class party. Hands on her hips, speaking uncomfortably loud to her son "Sumner Mark!".
Who's that? I wondered. Her son was friendly and talkative, he knew more about Star Wars than anyone I knew. I would find out later she knew just as much and wasn't afraid to share it.
She invited Owen over for his very first sleep over, I was worried, he was only five. She said not to worry and rattled off a detailed itinerary for the evening to sooth my insecurity. She has continued to go out of her way to sooth my insecurities. She was enthusiastic about Dermot. Few other friends took to him like she did. Her comfort around him made me at ease with her immediately. She was a safe person.
There's a certain, I don't give a hoot about what people think attitude about her. Yes, she drives the appropriate Edina car, has the appropriate Edina house and was a bit too involved in the PTO politics at the school from the get go. But that's only what you see if you don't know her.
She is kind, hilarious, unapologetic, loyal, impatient, brilliant, honest, and surprisingly vulnerable if she trusts you.
I am teasing her for her obsessive purchasing of designer handbags.
My panic has been at a low hum for the last few weeks. Every so often I realize that time is getting shorter. There's a date set, a plan in order and change is nearly upon us.
My friend is moving. 1000 miles away. This is the woman that I have spoken with nearly everyday for the last year and a half, not counting the days she's had off for various Star Wars conventions and Comic Book festivals. I'm not quite sure what will happen after she leaves, but I know my life will be significantly different.
No "I'm going to Sam's Club what do you need?" visits.
No impromptu visits to deliver my cookie container back to me.
No more annual neighborhood garage sale.
No dropping off my boys at her house to sleep over while I'm at the hospital with Dermot.
No showing up at Children's ER with my essentials and a hastily made ham sandwich with mayo instead of mustard.
No meeting me at Abbott to investigate the reason for my blown pupil and drive my mother back to Edina.
No hanging out at her house to watch her play with the crazy dog after her boys are asleep.
Okay, let's talk about the dog. My second best friend. My running buddy. My partner in fitness. No more running with the copper bullet tied to my waist. The dog's endearing excitement whenever I come to the door will be sorely missed. My own dogs have never been that excited about seeing me come home!
So I know that just because she is moving doesn't mean that we won't still be friends, but my person won't be close. My friend that comes over and grabs the suction wand without fear or regret and cares for my son without any reservations will be 1000 miles away. The one that walks in and tells me to get it together and encourages me to make tough decisions and loves me no matter what, will be 1000 miles away. That makes me panic quietly in my anxiety filled heart.
I am blessed to have met her. I am blessed to be able to be a true friend to her, just as she is to me.
There's no gossip or expectations. No judgments or put downs. No conditions or requirements.
Just friendship. A rare connection that has taught me to be a better person in every single area of my life.
Thank you Lisa. I will be your friend for as long as you'll have me.