My shoulder is moving in a few weeks. She’s not going far – just to the other side of the bay, no more than 10 minutes by car. But when your shoulder has been 100 feet away for the last two years, 10 minutes seems far. I have cried and laughed on that shoulder.
My shoulder was there when Cooper passed away and we barely knew each other. She was there when I brought Lucy home from the hospital and we were still getting to know each other. She was there when we were broke, thinking about leaving and knew each other well enough to be sad about it.
I was there when she went into labor with her second baby. I was there when they came home an expanded family. I was there when they made wonderful business expansions and life decisions.
We’ve shared chisme and chocolate and New Year’s Eves…parenting advice, beers, and trashy magazines. She brings me warm bread, hot chocolate, and humor [among so many other things]. I bring her leftovers, toilet paper, and insight [or so I think].
Our girls have grown 19 months together – more sisters than friends. Kind of like us.
By the time we return from our trip, my shoulder will have moved. Her little house on the hill will be empty. The neighborhood will feel a little less neighborly.
I know she will still be there, but I will feel a little crooked without my shoulder nearby.