Port Town

This week I had to say good-bye to a friend, Kudra moved away.  She had been sick for the last two weeks with a crazy cold that went after her ears, so our planned walks and outings were countermanded from that and also the heat.  But ironically the heat wave broke the day she moved away. As you can imagine moving in 90+ degree weather and while sick was not that the most comfortable of circumstances.  I resisted the urge to say maybe it was a sign, in a half joking manner of course.

I went over on the weekend to visit, finding little excuses to go and distract her and her mother from packing.  The first day she had offered up some food they were not going to get to (good organic vegetables and cheeses), I ended up staying for over an hour.  It wasn’t until I got to the car that I started crying.  I must admit the last few weeks I have been quick to tears at the most silly of things for not explicable reason, it was somewhere earlier last week that I realized that it was their move that was bothering me.  Many moons ago someone had brought up that San Diego is one of those cities that people seem to be moving in and out of, giving new meaning to our “Port Town” characterization.  Usually those who were not born here or in the SoCal area, live here for just under a decade.  My problem is that I seem to meet people around the seven year mark.  That was not the case with Kudra, I just met her in late January but it feels like I have known her for a lot longer.

On Sunday I went over to her house again to give her and her husband some parting gifts, my famous last lines to Honey were “I’ll be home soon”.  He had made some music for her husband to listen to as he drove across the country in a U-Haul and I gave her My Life in France and a journal.  I had wanted to lend her my copy but I wasn’t able to get it to her before she got sick.  I thought the book was appropriate because it begins with Julia Child arriving in a new place and starting her adventure, I thought Kudra could relate.  The journal was so she could write down all the little stories of her trip that seem to always get forgotten after a few months after a road trip and so that she too could master the art of detailed memories.

Three hours and a glass of wine later I went home.  She walked with me out to my car and I lost all composure and cried in front of her-I blame the wine.   I couldn’t really say what I wanted to say because I have this thing if I start talking-I cry more, but we said would miss each other and that we would keep in touch, thanks to Skype.  Although Kudra and I were not what you would call “two peas in pod” we had aspects to our lives that made it very easy to relate to one another and I think it helped us both.    I wish her the best in her new adventure and though I know we will keep in touch, my Lake Walks won’t be the same without her.  Miss you already =)


One thought on “Port Town

  1. Pingback: Guest Room Revisited | the novel housewife

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