500 Miles

Eleven years ago, I met this girl.  Since most of my friends lived in Orange County and I was going to school at UCLA, I didn't meet her until a few months after I first heard her name.  She was incredibly popular with my friends, and I was so jealous of her.  Everyone loved her, and she and my then-boyfriend had hit it off so well that people joked she was his "Other Girlfriend."

Little did I know that this person would become my rock, one of the people I loved most in the world.  It happened slowly, as all good relationships do.  But somewhere between reading Harry Potter to each other and having all-night Buffy marathons, it was sealed.  I understood now what people meant when they said BBF.  Because our friendship has always been fluid.  Schedules and lifestyles have made the time we can spend together wax and wane.  But I've always been happiest and most centered when I could be around her more.

Now, my friend has some exciting changes happening in her life.  Moving 500 miles away, beginning an advanced degree, moving 500 miles away, learning a new city.  Did I mention she's moving 500 miles away?

This is the right decision for her, it's something she's wanted to for years, and has seriously considered for at least half of the last decade.  I am so incredibly happy for her that she's taking the next step in her life, and I will now have an even better excuse to come up to San Francisco every month or so.

But I've been in denial for a while.  "I'll think about that later," I've told myself.  In a not-unusual turn of events, we are currently working together.  And as I transferred her accounts to the people taking over for her, it hit me.  My very best friend in the whole wide world is moving 500 miles away.  And even though I've kept it together and remained really happy for her, I'm finally allowing myself to be sad for me.

This is not the end, it's not even the end of our story, it's just a new chapter.  All the same, it's still a parting of sorts, and I know my life will not be the same with her farther away.  So, selfishly, I say, "So long, Maile.  I'll miss you."