To the Friend Who Moved Away

You moved away, and I’m pretending to be cool about it. I mean… I don’t understand why you chose to live somewhere else instead of staying here and having brunch with me every weekend… but I love you anyway.

We try to stay in touch… and sometimes we fail.

We make Skype dates that fall through. I forget about your weird time zone and text you in the middle of the night. Calls get dropped and plans change, and we both get busy with a thousand different little things—until we haven’t talked in months.

But when we do talk, nothing has changed. We can fall back into our old selves without missing a beat. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed: our jokes are just as strange and pointless as ever, and we can still make each other laugh until it’s hard to breathe. We just keep catching each other up on every little thing in our lives—until we’ve been talking for hours.

We both have other lives.

And I’ll try to remember that… even when you’re posting pictures on Facebook of brunch with your new friends. I won’t tell you I think they look kinda basic. I’ll try to understand that you still need to have brunch, even when I’m not there.

And you should know that no matter how many other friends make it into my profile picture, I haven’t replaced you. I could never find anyone else with your specific brand of strange and awesome.

I know that we’ll both change.

It’s just so WEIRD that we’re not in the same place, and yet somehow the space-time continuum hasn’t ruptured. And it’s weirder that we’re both going to keep changing without each other.

I know we’ll stay friends, even as we keep growing. I know that just because you’ve gone vegan and joined a ska band, it doesn’t mean you’re leaving me behind. I’ll try to remember the names of all the people in your office so you can whine about them, and you’ll try to give me advice on prospective romantic partners you’ve never met.

Because I’m still here for you.

I love you, no matter what stupid place you live in. I love you, if we only talk once a year. You can still call me in a crisis, or to tell me big news, or even just to talk about how you finally started binge-watching Friends (I’ve only been telling you to watch it for like, years, but whatever).

And I know that no matter how many times you move, you’re there for me too.

I will always count the days until I can see you again.

No matter how much we suck at communicating, nothing will stop me from squeezing the life out of you when you’re finally back in town. I will always be deliriously happy to see you. I will always ditch my local friends just to talk about nonsense with you.

So hurry up and come visit.