Kids can sense things. I know this from my experience today. Nanners had possibly the worst day in her 2-year career. We had lunch with two of my favorite friends from my days of singledom and Nanners was terrible. And I mean the kind of terrible that has you wondering why you deciced to become a mother in the first place. My secret hope is that you know what I'm talking about, but my public face would say I hope you don't. She screamed and threw fits and ran into the street. She licked the mall floor, hit her friend and barked orders the whole time. In a word it was miserable. We were having lunch to say goodbye to my friend, Jen, who is moving to Colorado. Jen--one of the dearest friends I'll ever know. To be completely honest, I'm not sure how I am going to survive without her and her adorable little Lucy girl. In the 6 or so years I've known her there has always been something that has drawn me to her. As if Heavenly Father was gently nudging me towards a person that would at times literally be my sanity, at others challenge me to do better, and in the times when I really needed it, remind me that things would get better. As both Lucy and Eliza came into our lives I was blessed to learn about every child-rearing book she read, tried and decided she couldn't use most of. And to catch the spirit of why being a mother is infinitley important and a complete joy. After every park visit or playdate I am left empowered to be a better mother and intelligent, thinking human being. In short, on my fairly short list of people I want in my Celestial Kingdom--Jen's on it.
As I hugged Jen goodbye and shoved my screaming toddler into her carseat, the tears began to flow. And they didn't stop my whole ride home. If it were not completely inappropriate I might have licked the floor and ran into the street too on account of how I was feeling. Nanners screamed some incomprehensible order about bunny crackers over and over again and I finally lost it. I turned the music off and I began to yell at her. I turned to her and in my meanest voice possible I said, "I am
so mad at you for walking into the street. I cannot believe you would do that! If you walk into the street a car may come and hit you..." my voice trembled and I had to catch myself between sobs to say "and I would never get to see you again." It was as if my heart was letting me know it could not handle any more loss right now. In complete silence, Nanners looked at me and nodded her head. I knew she understood. Or I scared the pants off her. I'll take either one.
I know this probably sounds like an epitaph. In actuality it just follows the thread that has seemed to run through my adult life--the thread that says "you must mourn the loss." Well Jen, this is me mourning the loss. And doing it quickly so I can return to being your friend that can overanalyze any and every topic with you. And the friend who is just going to have to get over her phone phobia so she can call and get advice every time Nanners enters a new stage. And finally, the friend who so desperately needs to be reminded that our lives really can be like one of those fabulously dramatic and complex books you are always reading.
2 comments:
Oh you are cruel. I cried all afternoon and now I'm definitely a lost cause for the rest of the evening. But thank you for once again picking all the right words that allow for horrible raw emotion, deep gratitude, and reserved excitement for the next piece (amazing how playgrounds have become hallowed places where that alchemy occurs over and over). I am so deeply sad about the distance, but I really do feel that your friendship is something that may change but will not disappear (driving home I tearfully daydreamed about the two of us with our girls in different cities seeing new things). We made it through dating frivolous boys, not dating frivolous boys, marriage, transitions from newlyweds to not, baby girls, passionate toddlers (although we haven't quite come out on the other side of this one), working, staying at home, and really our friendship has looked different at every turn - you and I are nothing if not flexible!
This is something I understand, Amber. Those friends are hard to find and even harder to say goodbye too. Even if it's just saying goodbye to the possibility of getting to see them on a regular basis. One of the hardest thing for me since being married and moving away from my dear friends that were my family and home away from home through my 20's. The real real good ones stick around (even if not physically and continue to intersect through your life). BTW, thank you for being a good friend to me here and in the few times we have taken the girl time together, allowed me to have the inane and sometimes not so inane talks that I so desperately need. You have been a great example to me as my pregnancy and mommyhood followed shortly behind yours. You are a good egg.
Post a Comment