The day you left I finished the last of the earl gray you had given me. It had barely lasted two weeks. Maybe I had been in a rush to drink it all, to have you leave so that I could move on. Not in a lovesick way, or maybe we do love our best friends as intensely as our lover. What do I know about love? It’s not a strength of mine. But I do miss you. It’s the knowing that makes the missing. No one really talks much about the depth of true friendships anymore. It’s seems to have been relegated to those shameful subject matters we shove to the unconscious realms of our mind. Those dark places that seem socially unacceptable to talk about. In a way it feels like death, not of the friendship itself, but rather an ending of stretch of time we had together. And in the midst of it remains a sparkling hope for future chapters and adventures. When we said goodbye for now I didn’t give you a going away gift. That was another way I refused to acknowledge the oversized Ryder truck parked in your driveway. So, I ate tacos and drank my Mexican coke and smiled and said “I’ll see you in April.” And that was that. I’ll see you in April. Love you.
