I'm not one for endings.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Endings are new beginnings, changes come, blah-frickin'-blah. It doesn't make it any easier to say goodbye. And if you live in Ohio and you're under age 40, you find yourself saying goodbye to people moving away fairly often, it seems.
This is the SECOND best friend who ABANDONED ME for the west coast. (My pick-up line for potential friends is now 'So...staying in Ohio?') Yes, I should have never invited Leslie to visit Portland, Ore. with me a year ago. It reignited her love of the city, and tomorrow she is heeding its siren call.
The lump in my throat is starting, and I fear it; I need to ration my tears for depressive episodes or a crappy boyfriend. But how can I not grieve the loss of proximity of a close friend? Unlike Planner McPlannerson (me), Leslie was usually up for anything. Whether it was walking to the record store, planning a "Boogie Nights" party or moving furniture. Her proximity (um, the room next to mine) underscored the fact that she is always there for me. And I know, even if she's across the country, if I really needed her here, she'd be on a plane. Knowing that diminishes the distance.
I know you need this move, Leslie, and I hope it works out beautifully to be in such a fantastic city. I know we'll be in touch, but I will miss your rapid-fire elocution, our self-portraits, smacking yer ass, nice dinners, wardrobe advice, Dolby and your kindheartedness. You rock, sister.
Love, your babymama