I have been blessed with many good friends over the years through our many moves and adventures. I have been doubly blessed to have found a few "bosom buddies" with whom I've shared an extra special connection.
On this assignment, I was even more privileged to have found that bosom buddy in my very own village, just a short walk up the street. We both homeschool. We both like to cook and try new recipes. Our children get along famously. We both like creative endeavors. We both love the Lord. We enjoyed countless hours of chatting; many, many laughs; some big fat ugly cries; swapping babysitting; sharing meals; exchanging endless favors; and, an untold number of tea and coffee afternoons together as our kids played.
Alas, as is the case with this military lifestyle, the time to say goodbye had to come. As if England knew a big, black cloud had settled over my heart, Hurricane Bertha came to darken the skies and shed lots and lots of tears to match my very own the day they flew out.
In the few days she's been gone, I have, without thinking started to: pop in while next door at the mechanic; call her for cooking advice; invite her over to show her the girls' birthday gifts; and, share a recipe from our organic produce delivery so she could try it next week when her box comes.
Apparently when one has a bosom buddy, its takes one's bosom some time to remove itself from autopilot in assuming the buddy is still there. Kinda like phantom pain when one's arm has been removed.
Eventually, I will develop new habits and adjust to her absence. In the meantime though, chatting with her on Facebook while pretending she's still just up the street works for me.
On this assignment, I was even more privileged to have found that bosom buddy in my very own village, just a short walk up the street. We both homeschool. We both like to cook and try new recipes. Our children get along famously. We both like creative endeavors. We both love the Lord. We enjoyed countless hours of chatting; many, many laughs; some big fat ugly cries; swapping babysitting; sharing meals; exchanging endless favors; and, an untold number of tea and coffee afternoons together as our kids played.
Alas, as is the case with this military lifestyle, the time to say goodbye had to come. As if England knew a big, black cloud had settled over my heart, Hurricane Bertha came to darken the skies and shed lots and lots of tears to match my very own the day they flew out.
In the few days she's been gone, I have, without thinking started to: pop in while next door at the mechanic; call her for cooking advice; invite her over to show her the girls' birthday gifts; and, share a recipe from our organic produce delivery so she could try it next week when her box comes.
Apparently when one has a bosom buddy, its takes one's bosom some time to remove itself from autopilot in assuming the buddy is still there. Kinda like phantom pain when one's arm has been removed.
Eventually, I will develop new habits and adjust to her absence. In the meantime though, chatting with her on Facebook while pretending she's still just up the street works for me.
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