what just happened?: a story of coming and going

I have a story to tell you.  Maybe it only matters to one other person, but I need to tell it.  It comes in photographic form.

It began quite some time ago - perhaps 25 years ago - it will continue on for many years to come.

But this particular tale has only developed in the last two weeks.

The days have strung together in a perpetual ebb of sunny days and night skies and comings and goings.

In this tale, I have just returned from living a life in the City.  All the while my dearest friend is preparing to take her life to another city two time zones away.

This is what happened in 42 photo form during that whirlwind of major life changes (also known as growing up).

I came back to town and found the moving box on your doorstep.

 You took photographs (on the lovely camera your dear husband gave you for your birthday, good job 'shua) of the ethereal dusk.

 You, Whitty, and I were reunited.

 You harvest the green beans you planted even though you knew you would be leaving them.

 I admired your greenthumb.

 Aunt Patti helped us to enjoy that ethereal evening.

Aunt Patti learned she did like fried okra.

 I fell in love with Reuben.

 You filled a "box" with the contents of your life.

 Stella shared her love for your kitchen rug with her new cousin.

 We admired a tractor while taking in early morning "arts and crafts".

 I taught/convinced you to Instagram.

 We celebrated Julie Fullmer's birthday with carrot cake cupcakes.

(You made a lot of carrot cake.)

 We kept the pups out of the garden.

 I fell more in love with your babe.

 You fell more in love with your babe and enjoyed being able to hold him on your lap.

 Stella and Atticus rekindled their admirations for one another.

 You hosted a cookout and Sabrina proved her strength.

 We went to a "goodbye dinner" on the lake in Michigan.

 Sam learned to accessorize.

 Your siblings were together.

 Ryan and Michelle toasted you and Josh.

 We admired the farm-fresh bouquets and recalled the Glads Joanna raised for 4-H and the Zinnia that won you ribbons.

 The calendar was marked..and remarked and remarked.

 Joshua diligently and fervently wrought his truck.

 Sam and Laura came to say good bye.

 Stella brought her influence to the boys.

 She enjoyed your backyard.

 You text me the morning view on my birthday.

We celebrated with Yubra at Aunt Patti's.

 You honed your Instagramming skills.

I reminded Stella of discipline.

 I felt the love.

Ashley joined us.

 Aunt Patti gave me her sweet hand-made gift.  Which was wrapped quite well.

 I thought of a wish - it took a while because in that moment I had everything I wanted.  

I blew out all the candles in one breath.

 Aunt Patti admired your green beans and plotted her next summer's growings.

 Your baby brother helped you pack and helped your husband in the the wrought.

You found enlightenment. 

We recalled that it was one year ago that we had stayed up late that night finishing that seating chart while the whole house slept.

Aunt Patti and I helped you with the giant, scary box of paperwork late into the night until it was neatly tucked into a not heavy tote that Aunt Patti could carry all by herself.

We stayed up late packing, re-packing and re-re-packing.

I drove blurry-eye home at 7am.

 I crawled into bed and let sleep console my sad self.

You invited me back over with the promise of my own (dairy-free) pizza.

I stopped crying.

 We finally packed that camping gear.

We recycled all those notes you passed in middle school.

You remembered adventures with your father.

 We recalled your 4-H glory with a fake smile.

 I remembered your real smile.

 You remembered your real smile.

 We lite up the night (and our lives) with the help of a flame thrower and Ryan.

The irony of the moment was admired as Josh stayed up late in the garage with his best man and you stayed up late in the house with your maid of honor on the eve of your first anniversary.

Josh text you Happy Anniversary first as midnight ticked past.  You reciprocated the sentiment to Mr. Thomas.

You said good-bye to Ryan.  Josh said good-bye to Ryan.

 The dogs didn't share our new found fire, irony or nostalgia.

We deliberated on the perfect filter.

Josh stumbled back from the garage after falling asleep whilst working under his truck getting that exhaust attached.  He struggled with that Massimo's pizza box and fitting it through the doorway.

We packed those suitcases.

We packed those "ship" boxes.

We attached those dog tags.

We labeled everything.

We cleaned the kitchen.

We washed the dishes.

We sat down at your table.

 I felt a sense of painful satisfaction.

You made a final everything to do list.  It included take out the compost.

We knew that was (for real) the last time we would sit at that table in that kitchen that had been your home for two and a half years.

You walked me out.

We admired the night sky and the view.

We recalled our ice-storm adventure.

You conceded to the blurry-eyed drive home after wishing me goodbye before I moved to New York and I conceded the blurry-eye home yesterday morning.  We established it was difficult to drive whilst crying.

We agreed there were many adventures in store and that we would soon be having tea in your kitchen once more.  We also hoped for the future house to have more windows.

Our right shoulders became damp.

You know the rest.

Bon voyage my love.

Next August let's do less crying.