Sparkly Red Shoes

The last couple weeks have been ones of pretty extreme change. Not unexpected by any means, but disruptive nonetheless. Knowing a giant upheaval was coming down the pipeline, I prepared myself the only way I know how…with distractions and denial comparable to psychosis.

One of my dearest and longest-running friends moved to Sydney, Australia. We met each other at my very first job out of college. I’d been in DC not quite a month and was lonely, broke, and second-guessing my decision to move to the East Coast. She was also a gypsy new to town so we had lots in common…we had both lived in Australia, we both wanted to save the world (but were finding out it was much harder than expected), we shared a love of long lady chats, and, best of all, we shared a love of cocktails in dive bars. We became fast friends and have spent the last 6.5 years working our way through countless of life’s growing pains and celebrations.

I was so sorry to see her go in a selfish way, but also thrilled she was moving back to Sydney with a man of unparalleled fabulocity and heaps of hope, wisdom, and excitement. The prospect of spending the next summer without her gentle guidance is terrifying, to say the least. (In my personal staff of life teachers she represents sanity, thoughtfulness, and Cajun food…subjects I clearly have not yet mastered.) I foresee many melancholy nights ahead. But, I also foresee fabulous winter getaways in the southern hemisphere and the new benefit of cataloging her wise ways in carefully organized email folders, a thing I’ve always wished I could do with some of our in-person conversations. Email folder titles will be along the lines of: Inappropriate Things Exes Ask, Red Wine, White Wine, Things overheard in wine bars, Wombat Sightings, Music I should be appreciating, etc.

I cried on the phone with my mom for a long time the night she left. To make her exodus feel less traumatic, I planned a birthday party for my dog. This was convenient because it kept me very busy with things that didn’t really need to be done. Hooray!

So, now that I’ve learned to make proper cheesecake, destroyed my apartment and then cleaned it up again, and worked my way tediously through several bottles of champagne, I think I’m finally ready to wish The Shazzer the best of luck in her new home. Also, I hear that in Oz when things feel a little uncool, you just click your fab shoes together and say there’s no place like home. Evidently everything gets way better if you do that. I’ll miss ya girl!


Wish I by Jem