Alone in your kitchen
Surrounded by the echoes of so many conversations
Voices from the past fill the silence.
Feeling alone here for the first time.
Here is where we brought out our broken hearts to be seen, spilled out our sad stories, and called on each other to pick up the pieces.
So sure we could create wholeness if we just kept at it, maybe even save the world, we were the righteous ones.
We poured out our truths and life stories right here on this Formica counter as easily as those second and third bottles of wine.
We were fearless with and for each other and
In those moments, the whole world made sense.
I stand in this sacred place.
I choose to hold tight to the goodness.

Years later, looking back
I had no way to know that was my last time in your kitchen.
That space was a temple that held the fabric of our friendship.

Knowing you were there, that I was welcome anytime, created a safety net that saved my life.
You gave me unconditional belonging.
My fading hope to find our way back to that is diluted now
by so many hurt feelings and compromises made,
the words unsaid,
the trust broken.
Who we were for each other then is stuck in another time,
out of reach after all that is now part of our story-
but even so, I am so grateful.
Not everyone knows friendship like that.
I am sad for the space between us, yes,
but this pain is not rooted in brokenness but rather in mourning for the deep and profound loss of you, of us.
Friendship lives in the present moment, I know that now.

And it’s okay. We’re okay. I can love you over the distance between us.

Our friendship will always be one of my favorite parts of my life’s story.

And I’ll always be grateful for you. I’ll walk with the ghost of our young and fearless selves, dear friend.