Life: Idiotropic

God has blessed me with an incredible family both immediate and extended that I am both proud of and proud to be a part of and a circle of beautiful women all over the world that I can call my friends.

But today I had to say an extremely sad "see you later" to one of the greats -- I think it's the saddest good-bye I've ever had to say to a friend.

It's silly... but I kind of think friends are like shoes. You know, we have different kinds of friends to fill those different needs in our life, so just as shoes come in different colors and styles, we have funny friends and coffee friends, friends we can cry with and friends that we shop with, friends we can be fancy with at the theater and friends we sweat with at the beach. Some of our friends might fill several niches just like my black slides can go with jeans or skirts... but it's rare when there is someone who can do it all. I thought I'd come close...

And then I came here and I met this crazy lady that, at first impression (for who knows what reason) seemed Canadian. And she taught me to laugh, but allowed me to cry and listened when things didn't make sense. She gave me to gift of reading and filled a prized corner of my bookshelves with amazing literary nuggets of wisdom and faith while inscribing them with her own. We shopped for antique oddities and Italian treasures. We traveled, shared a room with an amazing view, ate food so good we giggled, drank the best coffee and watched fancy old women who were simply fabulous. We shared moments. I could be honest to a fault. Catty and rude, silly and frivolous, or completely overly serious. And it was ok. She went with every mood, every occasion and we had fun. She's wise, but doesn't make me feel like a kid. And she always knows what I need to hear - not what I always want to hear. She has faith in me and won't let me be less than what I should. The cornerstone of the great triumvirate. My right hand and my left brain. That was Holly. That is Holly. And yes, I know it's not good-bye and I know I live in this amazing age of internet and cheap phone calls. But she is that magical pair of shoes that goes with everything. And now, what will I wear?

Living this life where I move every couple years, I know good-bye. Good-bye stops in frequently here, creating distance between family and friends, testing the bonds, making us cling to the memories we cherish as if they'd sprout legs and run. Good-bye sneaks up quickly with that sideways glance that is sometimes mocking, sometimes sinister, but always hard to read. I don't like him. I don't like "see you later" either. The computer is ok, but you can't hug it.

And if I'd had the slightest inkling of who this was when I met her by the rasta cows on Schliefweg that day, I would've knocked her over with a big hug right then and there.