I feel fortunate to have a good number of dear friends and confidantes, but sometimes I’m sad about how far apart I live from so many of them. Whether its just a few hours or a whole coast that divides us, I miss being a part of their everyday lives, doing the simple, silly things we’d do as roommates or hanging out like high school pals.
Last Friday, a friend from D.C. who relocated to Iowa City drove in for lunch, and our children played and we talked and talked and talked. And then this weekend, dear friends who’d flown back to the Midwest from the Bay Area drove up to Des Moines for a family sleep over.
We just walked around the shops in the East Village and got dinner at A Dong (with an emergency dessert run to Creme Cupcake) and followed up a breakfast at home with a stroll around the neighborhood. The simple, good stuff.
I’m grateful for friends who can pick up conversations like we’ve never had a day apart, even if we haven’t seen each other for years. I’m terrible on the phone, and an irregular pen pal, so sweet little visits mean so much.