One of G’s friends is moving away, out west… way out west… as far west as one can travel on this vast continent. I am sad for G. She loves little L and talks about him often. She likes to go to play at his house and not just because he has the coolest cubby house known to toddler kind. They have known each other their whole lives, give or take a few weeks at the beginning when they were mostly just sleeping anyway.
G doesn’t know yet. And how would I explain it anyway? I know that she will miss him, and ask about him. I know that if she could understand it she would be devastated.
|'L' by G. The likeness is uncanny.|
When I was 11 one of my best friends moved away. She didn’t move as far as Perth. In fact she really only moved 15 miles down the road. But since 11 year olds can’t drive, and public transport was pretty dismal the move effectively put an end to our friendship. Or at the very least, put a big dent in it.
Yes, I am sad for G. She doesn’t know she is losing a friend. But I am even sadder for me.
L’s mum and I met as new mothers; we sat in a room of sixteen or so women each clinging on to a baby with varying degrees of trepidation (I’d say we were all pretty much winging it at that stage.) That group kept me sane. We shared stories (mainly involving poo), swapped ideas and developed significant friendships.
I am going to miss my friend. But I’ll wave her off knowing that the bonds of shared experience will remain intact despite the strain of distance and time and life in general.
Your friends are your friends no matter where they are. I know that because I’m always saying goodbye to them! One to New Zealand. One back to the UK. One to Hong Kong. And then there are all my friends in England who happily waved me off for my working holiday.
I know that G and L will grow up together, it’s just going to look a little different from how I imagined. Instead of being G’s pal with the cool cubby, he’ll be G’s first ever pen pal.