“So my daughter’s friend from school… I, like, love her mom,” I sighed to my best friend.
Only, my best friend wasn’t actually there.
I was sitting in the car recording a Marco Polo for her, because she broke the cardinal rule of best-friendship. And moved away.
I’m just kidding, obviously, about the rule thing.
It was the weirdest happy/sad feeling when she got the news that her hubby had landed a job in Arizona: a job they’d both wanted for him. A job right near so much of their family, where they could be home for holidays and their little boy could grow up around his cousins.
I was thrilled for her, and absolutely crushed for me. Because Phoenix, where that dream job is? It’s 980 miles away.
“She’s so funny and cool and down to earth,” I went on. “So… I don’t know.”
I went on, listing the other things I loved about this not-yet-official potential-mom-friend, feeling weirdly like I was reciting my qualifications in a soulmate.
Because that’s the thing no one tells you about being a so-called “grown up.”
Making friends? It can feel really hard.