I will miss you

by Alissa

bowl of chive blossoms

The view at my kitchen sink: chive blossoms from a dear friend’s garden float in a Japanese bowl from my mother’s (now my) collection. We’ve been happily eating these pungent beauties all week.

One of the lines of consolation I’ve heard my mother, veteran of at least 20 major moves, repeat again and again is,

‘Wherever we go, we meet interesting people and make wonderful friends.’

The truth of this is matched only by the pain of leaving the friends we’ve made here.

I want to look ahead to a time a few years from now where we are again surrounded by neighbours we know and people we love, but for now they are a figment.

Today I miss my Waterloo friends already. This makes me miss anew the friends we’ve left in other times and places. But just because we’re leaving doesn’t mean we’re not keeping you–if only in the loose grasp of internet friendship.

To quote Dad’s cousin Dave: “One of the unexpected joys of getting older is knowing people for a long time.”

That’s a joy I want to cultivate, in whatever format possible.