Ms. Chilson

The only problem with having best friends visit from faraway places is that when they leave, I feel as though a chunk of my soul has been packed tidily in their luggage and taken away.  The converse of this, of course, is that she left a chunk of her soul with me, for safe keeping. 
The best part of having best friends visit from faraway places is that while we were together, I felt whole in that way that only happens in those odd moments when my adult life slams back together with my childhood, all of the pieces intertwining to a rarely achieved perfection.  The expressions on her face are the same as they were decades ago and I get it, and she gets it, and we pick up the rhythm of conversation and jokes as if a moment had passed, rather than three years, since we last looked into each other’s laughing eyes.  This visit, we had the extra fun of noting that our boys, born on opposite sides of the world and more than a year apart in age, are nearly carbon copies of each other in temperament and nature, and our girls share a daredevil’s spirit. 
It was so, so fun.  Now, if only I could convince her that she should live next door, that would be something.