My close friend and roommate, CK, just left on Monday to move back to Europe for the foreseeable future. She and I met several years ago during grad school and have lived together on and off ever since. When people ask about her, my go-to response consists of me horribly singing the title lyric of Patrick Swayze’s ballad “She’s Like the Wind.” One, it’s a fantastic song that should never be forgotten. And two, I feel like it accurately describes her affinity for living out of a suitcase, joining me for months at a time wherever I happen to be living, and then departing to places unknown whenever her visa expires or the weather gets too cold for her liking. So I suppose she’s more like a tropical breeze.
For our last weekend together, we went downtown to the African American History and Culture Museum and snarkily commented on how different the atmosphere and descriptions were compared to the almost nostalgic tone of some of the historical landmarks and museums we’d visited on our road trip down south a few weeks earlier. We tried a couple new restaurants (okay, they were actually bakeries) and ate ridiculous amounts of unhealthy food that I’m probably still digesting. After the requisite trip to Sephora, we headed home to watch Netflix like usual. There was the ever-present cloud of her imminent departure, but we didn’t address it except to commiserate about how much of a pain it is to pack. This farewell was becoming routine and it wouldn’t do for either of us to make a production out of it. I woke her for a quick hug goodbye before leaving for work on Monday and told her I’d see her again soon, whatever that means this time around.
As a hard-core introvert, I never thought I’d enjoy voluntarily having a roommate besides my cat. Over the past few days though, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about what CK’s friendship has meant to me and reflecting on women’s friendships in general. This contemplation is due in no small part to the Parks and Recreation mini-marathon I indulged in while nursing sniffles and a sore throat the other night. New goal: To be as caring and dedicated a friend as Leslie Knope. Continue reading