On Friday morning we woke up from our first, and last, slumber party.
We had had our coffee and a quick bite to eat.
The moving truck was packed. It was time to go.
For the first time in sixteen years it wasn't me who was moving.
But I was unpacking memories of my own....
I remembered the weeks before our move from Fort Worth. A lady from church encouraged me to be sensitive to those I was leaving behind. She reminded me that I was leaving with my family for a "great adventure" while my friends would have to learn to adjust to life with a Kellie-shaped void.
She was a women I respected and I took her words to heart; tucked them away gently... tiny little pearls I was saving for later... only I didn't know just when.
This was the week-- nearly seven year later.
Things are going to be so strange without my Friday-Lunch Bunch (which this summer turned into an often Wed-Thur-Friday Breaksfast/Lunch Bunch.)
There is a huge void that has settled in the Little Yellow House on The Hill, and its gonna be awfully hard to move around it.
Since there is nothing so well worth having as friends, never lose a chance to make them.
~Francesco Guicciardini
