She’s moving. We’ve only known one another for a few years. But they’ve been big ones. 

She was here when our Biggests were in kindergarten together. When they decided they were two of a trio of BFFs. 

She was here when we would drink coffee, hers with flavored creamer, mine, black. We would drink coffee. And watch morning TV. And the Smallers would entertain themselves.

She was here when I got sick. She was here. The dropoff point. The one my kids started to know as a second-home. 

She was here when I needed to sob on a couch. While one of my boys dressed up in her girls’ old dance costumes. She was here.

She was here when I needed someone to pray for me. And someone to pray with.

She was here when we were in the throes of three under 6. When we didn’t ever wash our hair and yoga pants were life.

She was here as we morphed into more confident school-aged mamas who weren’t so timid about pick-up procedures and what to wear to back-to-school breakfasts.

She was here as we both felt overwhelm. Uncertainty, each about our own futures. She was here.

And now, she won’t be. 

She’ll be away. Farther. Not in the same “thick of it.” But her own. 

She’ll be trying to regain her footing again. She’ll get her kids settled first, worrying about their happiness. She’ll support her husband and he’ll support her. They will lean on one another. She will then, one day, start to make new friends. Find her new groove. And she will be there.

She was here for a reason. A season. And a time.

But now, she must go and spread her soul to those who need her to be there. And though she will no longer live here, she will always be here with so many of us. 

And while it was just for a time, she will stick within us, always.