For Sara

Several years ago, a group of strangers gathered at another stranger's house, bearing gifts of wine, cake and friendship. Then, we called ourselves the Twitter Ladies as we'd "met" on Twitter - all of us, save one, transplants to the Friendly City in which we live.

That first evening was hilarious - no sooner had we kicked off our shoes at the door, we were kicking off our nerves and our fears and our sense of weird about being in a stranger's home with women from the internet.

We swiftly assigned nicknames and monikers with the ease of new friends aiming to become long-term ones (mostly this was to differentiate between the Jens, who became Baker Jen, Nurse Jen and Preacher Jen, respectively) Our numbers have fluctuated over the years and we are now the Quinte Women's Respite Commission, which makes me giggle even typing it. We are each other's respite, for sure.

Sara was the youngest of us, then and remains the youngest of us now. She is impossibly beautiful and gentle-voiced. She chooses her words with absolute care and moves without any superfluous gestures whatsoever. She is a writer, a teacher, a community activist, a traveller, a dreamer.

Sara, Kyle and the aptly-named Jasper the Dog

She is my friend.

And she is also leaving.

Sara and her travelling-partner-for-life,  Kyle are both gypsies at heart. At month's end, they are heading to Alberta, having gamely spent their first year as a couple here in Ontario. Those of us who love her (and him) wish them nothing but oodles of luck as they embark on this very exciting adventure. But....we will miss her. I am the Storyteller of the group and of course, I have some things to tell her:


1. I am proud of you, my friend. This is a big deal, moving away from all that is familiar and all those who are dear. Though I know your heart has longed to return to the province of your childhood, I know too, how hard it is to leave behind the woman you've grown into here, in the pretty city by the Bay. I know that it has been a privilege to watch her. Now, I'll just have to do so through my computer.

2. Pictures. Take lots of 'em. Document the awesome views and the mundane moments...but not so much that you forget to live in them, either. Share them, love. With those who've made a similar journey and who have sepia-washed memories of their own, and with those still dreaming of becoming someone more, in a different place.

3. Miss us. Miss the loud and the messy of our lives, spilled out onto every table we've gathered around. Miss the laughter and the bawdy humour of women who maybe freak you out a little, but who adore you and see in you, our younger selves. Miss the magic of belonging to something bigger than you, than all of us -  the women who surround you in your journey are all facets of your own heart. And all of us will miss you.

A photo of Sara and Kyle's new home, that I shamelessly pinched
from her blog. That's the kind of friend I am.

Steady as you go, Skipper. Carry our love in the pockets of your heart.