Dear Friends, Love, Amy.

Dear Friends,

I'm sorry I haven't heard your voice in years, or seen you in what seems like decades. I read your blog posts, and every article you link to on Facebook. I think your band is cool and your kids are adorable. I love the haircut.

I miss seeing you in person, and part of me feels like it's a little weird that all I have of you now is a couple witty one liners here and there, or an idea for dinner you'd like to make, dutifully pinned on your "recipes to try" board. Seriously, though, you live in Texas. Or Costa Rica. Or fifteen minutes south of me; any of these destinations is prohibitively far. Honestly, sometimes the kitchen is prohibitively far from the bedroom, so I stay under the covers and read "Play Ball, Amelia Bedelia" again. I love that one. Run home, Amelia Bedelia! It slays me.

My phone doesn't get reception reliably in the house, damn AT&T. So I don't call you. It's too heartbreaking to hear you say, "sorry, I think you're breaking up...". Just too disappointing. Plus, my baby stares at me the whole time, on the brink of whining, which is just one metro stop before melting down. It's really distracting. And he won't let someone else watch him so I can talk to you. I don't even go to the bathroom by myself, because he wants to come along. If I get out of bed when he's sleeping, he wakes up, devastated. I don't shower much (some things never change).

The thing is, I'm tired but I'm happy. I like making dinner and stacking blocks, and I don't mind dishes or laundry. I'm isolated, yes, but I'm too tired to do much, so I don't want to. I wouldn't have ever thought solitude would suit me, but I'm really quite content most of the time. I think it's my lifeline that keeps me sane.

I know some people hate on Facebook and, I agree, it's not as satisfying as seeing you in person. We used to sit on the floor and talk, or stay up late because we would be bored in bed without each other. But now, honestly, I'll take what I can get, and what I can get is Facebook. Email. Pinterest. On my phone. In bed, while the baby sleeps.

I feel updated on your life, and I love it, even if it's a little delusional. Delusion isn't as bad as it sounds. I have always likes feeling like I am in the loop and, except for one little person whose every sneeze I have witnessed, I can't be in anyone's real loop. So, please, keep posting. I'll keep dreaming.

I am thinking we would love living together someplace beautiful, kind of rural, but maybe that's just me. If so, I think it'd be fun to plan yearly retreats, but to accommodate each of you, I'd be going on a lot of retreats, and, frankly, I don't see that happening for awhile.

So here's what I propose. These next years, I think we will have to stick it out. I just can't see another way with you living in Texas. But, I think things will open up in a decade or two. Ryan will be a workaholic still, my kids won't want to watch me pee. I'll come visit.

We'll order takeout. Go for a walk. Take a pottery class, or stained glass, which I've always wanted to try. We'll make tea, tell stories about the yesterdays we shared and those we didn't. We'll go to the farmers market and make dinner. You'll convert me to a cause, I'll convert you, too. I'll twist my long braid, maybe it will be gray. We'll go skinny dipping.

I've missed you, but you don't feel so far away. I'm keeping you tucked away in my heart, where the belly laughter is. I can't wait to hang out again, and I thank you for all your patience. It's just that, at the moment, I have to teach this kid how to dance in the kitchen, or he may never learn.

Keep typing into the abyss. I'm reading, and I love you.

Talk soon, I hope.

xo,

Amy