Hellos and Goodbyes

Today I said goodbye to my best friend. She's moving to another city, and I will greatly miss her. I will miss a lot of things about her--- those warm hugs, brunch on a Sunday--- but most of all I will miss the spontaneity of our friendship. The afternoon drop-by coffee. The dinner at my apartment. How we'd meet for drinks with 15 minutes notice, and spend three hours talking.

We said goodbye on the street corner this afternoon, and when the light changed, she walked away. Not for good, I know that. There will be visits, there will be Skype dates. There will be gchats. But something is changing, and in that moment, I felt it-- I felt it all.

Hannah, in many ways, introduced me to New York. I met her my first week here. I showed up in her office as a prospective intern--- fresh from Los Angeles with a cardigan around my shoulders in 100 degree heat. Hannah took me in, but it was slow. Our friendship unfolded with the seasons. It was a year before I was really in, I think. But when you're in, you're in. She showed me her city-- the one she has lived in her whole life, and that I was a stranger to. Her favorite restaurants, book stores. The New York City Ballet. How to cross The Park at 66th street. That Amsterdam was on the west side. She'd often send me directions to places we were meeting, or guide me step by step on how to get home.

Many things have happened in five years. Break-ups and boyfriends and jobs and a published novel, but the one thing that has remained consistent is her presence in my life--- in my New York life.

So we said goodbye. To this chapter, anyway. And I cried. I cried so much a stranger stopped me on the street. This lovely woman with big, brown eyes and cashmere-clad hands.

"What's wrong, darling?" she asked me.

"I just said goodbye to my best friend," I said.

She nodded, took my hand in hers. "You'll see her again."

"I know," I sniffed. I gulped back some sobs.

"It's not goodbye," she said. "It's until next time."

Then this perfect stranger hugged me. She put her arms around me and I lay my head on her shoulder.

When I turned to leave she was reluctant to let go of my hand. "Do you know where you're going?" she asked me, concern in her eyes.

"Yes," I said. "I do."

I know where Amsterdam is now. I know that my favorite restaurant doesn't take reservations, and if I go past 7 pm, I'll have no chance of getting in. But most importantly, I know how to get home.

I'll miss you, HBG. Safe travels.

XO,

R