The day after we got home, we got the first bit of bad news.
I don't have a lot of really, really close friends. I have my sister, my sister-in-law. And since high school I haven't really had a friend that I could tell absolutely anything to, with complete trust. My entire married life, I've had good friends. Friends that I can borrow an egg from, friends that I could stop and chat with while out for a walk, friends that I could trust with my kids, but never anyone that I could confide in with everything. Never one that I knew would do just about anything for me, if I needed it, never really anyone that I was wiling to do that for. Never anyone that I could spend pretty much all of my time with and never tire of them.
My close wonderful friend has four children. All close in ages to the same as mine, and who mine adore. In fact, our 3 year olds act like an old married couple, kissing goodbye and interspersing their conversations with spats.
They put their house up for sale.
It wasn't a complete shock. The idea had been floated for a few weeks. I tried to be supportive, while subtly trying to allude to all of the virtues of NOT moving. Apparently, I was too subtle, because when we returned from Park City, a For Sale sign was hanging in their front yard.
I was devastated. Just ask my husband. I'm not exaggerating.
They wouldn't be moving too far, 10 or so minutes away by car, but it wouldn't be the same. We couldn't walk over for a play date. They wouldn't be in our ward, they wouldn't go to our school. And I wasn't the only one: when my son realized that they were moving, he decided the solution would be to move in with him. I had to physically restrain him for over an hour from taking off to run to their house. It was horrible. It was sad. And it kicked off the next phase of my summer: Maybe we should move?
*If you have no idea what's going on, start here.