My very closest girlfriend is moving today – not to another borough, not to the city’s suburbs, but to another country. Let me begin by saying I have very few close girlfriends in my life and, perhaps, as I have grown older, this has been a more conscious decision than not. I quickly tire of gossip and drama; for most of my life I have been looking ahead to the future, knowing I would someday leave for college, a job, a new city.
Maybe this is part of the reason she and I became such good friends, especially considering we initially despised each other. But when I moved to New York City after graduation, when I was feeling unbelievably lost and lonely, she was one of the only people I knew in the city. Afternoons of cupcake tasting, farmers market trips, running in Central Park, or conversations about food (always with wine) ensued. Her no-nonsense, tough love was exactly what I needed and against all odds of our personalities, we quickly became close friends. Without her support, I would not have found the willpower to stay in NYC, so you might imagine how indebted I feel to her now.
We spent last Saturday in Brooklyn, pretending most of the day that it was like any other weekend, enjoying a few drinks while catching-up on everyone’s increasingly busy lives. But all too quickly, we found ourselves huddled in a dirty subway station, where the L train splits between Manhattan and Brooklyn. A tear-filled goodbye ensued and I could suddenly no longer harbor any anger at her for leaving. I could only wish her the best of luck and sincerely hope she finds everything she is seeking.