a few words for Timea

Bud is moving to NZ in February. And although I knew it was coming, and I am happy, because the Gringo rocks and I trust him with my best friend's happiness, being the one left behind is so much harder. I know now, what she felt, at all those awful airport goodbyes. Meeting at random train stations all over the world, hefting backpacks over our uncontrollably laughing shoulders.

That beautiful chick has shared my whole life. The best parts - like when I got my TER score, crammed beside the fridge, scared to listen, and you came and told me, jubilant, that it was 95.85.
The worst - that Hugh was gone, but he smelled like VERY Old Spice and even in the flood of my nutty teenage tears, we could laugh. Laughter... Rafter ...

And all the times in between. My idea of bliss, is lying in your icy cold Melbourne bedroom, bed socks and flannel pj's, drinking milky tea, and falling asleep to Buffy. Or talking into the small hours when we know we should be sleeping. Just let me tell you this. Let me tell you one more thing.

I know NZ isn't far away, and I know we'll probably meet more in the next ten years than we have in the previous ten. And I will wear my I LIKE GOATS badge with pride, and think of you every day.

H-hm...