End of an Era

11 years ago, I was working at a daycare in Wintersville, OH. I was somehow or other under the impression that McDonald's milkshakes were an acceptable form of calcium during pregnancy, and I was spending my very first few days alone while Chris was in Baltimore on a business trip.

I left work on a Friday, picked up Vanessa, the fiancee of Chris' friend (or she picked me up, I can't remember now), made a stop at McDonald's for Fish Fillet Sandwiches and (of course) a milkshake, and headed out to Baltimore to meet our guys. This girl and I had met before, but this was the first time we had spent any real amount of time together, and it felt important for us to get along because it was looking like my husband and her husband-to-be were going to be relocated, taking us to a strange city where just about the only people we would know would be each other.

That was 11 years ago. I wish I could go back and tell my old self, nervous about a 5 hour drive with someone I barely knew, that it would all be okay. "She is one day going to pressure you into joining a gym," I would tell myself, "and you will love it! You will both be pregnant at the same time soon, and your kids are going to be great friends. One day both of your husbands are going to feel bad about spending all night playing computer games together, and they will buy you matching KitchenAid mixers to apologize. You will borrow recipes from, swap old-wives-tales with, and meet this woman at coffee shops late at night when you are both desperate and in need of adult conversation. You are going to spend Christmases, New Years, Thanksgivings and Easters with these people, and it is what is going to make this new city feel like Home."

These are the things I was thinking about when the Lobers came over after church on Sunday for the last time, ever. Our kids played their last game of whatever-it-is, some Indian/super-hero hybrid thing that can only be played satisfactorily in each others' company, and we sat around the table and talked, laughing with and at each other in the casual way that has grown up between us. By the end of this week, the Lobers will be gone, off to a better job, a super-sweet house, and a family support system that has always haunted them. Because they are like family to us, because we love them we are very, deeply happy for them. Because they are like family to us, and because we love them we are also sad to see them go.

As they pulled out of our driveway last Sunday, I used Chris' shirt to dry my eyes and he patted me on the head. "It was a good run, " he said to me, "People these days don't usually get so long before moving on." He was right. It was a good run, and like all good things it had to come to an end. We will miss them sorely, but I am grateful for the years' worth of memories and friendship that we have built up with them, and we wish them all the luck in the world as they move on to the next phase in their lives.