I am feeling a strange sense of loneliness this morning. I am missing a dear friend, and although I often have moments where I’d love to meet up in a coffee shop with her, the urge is especially overwhelming today. The problem is, she lives clear across the country in Washington state, an entire world away from my humid little Tally town.

She and I met on tour with the African Children’s Choir. We spent fifteen months galavanting across the country and then the world. When we had days off together, we jumped for joy and would explore new territory, scaling mountains on the backs of golf carts and cramming ourselves into small elevators on their way up to the tops of monuments. The memories we have together are countless, and when recalled upon, usually leave the two of us howling with laughter, and the rest of the world staring at us quizzically.

She is the friend that I can completely be myself around. I can drop all pretenses and know that she will absolutely love the vulnerable, insecure little thing underneath. I know, because it’s the same way with her. I think the reason we get along so well is because we’re so alike. I’ve loved the conversations we’ve had together, some heart wrenching, and some just surface level and silly. She is also the friend that I can be completely goofy around. I think she taught me how to snort when laughing.

She is also the friend that first inspired me in my love for anything coffee. I remember being on tour and her buying me a mocha, to start me off easy. I remember sipping it thinking, “I can still taste coffee.” Now if I have a mocha, I think, “Is there any coffee in this???” Thanks, friend, for fueling the addiction.

She and I were married within a year of each other and bought our first house just months apart. I jokingly told her not to get pregnant yet, cause I wasn’t yet ready to follow her into that uncharted milestone. We’ve had gut wrenching conversations over the phone about compromises in marriage, unconditional love, sex, fights, and home improvement joys and nightmares.

Last year she flew to Jacksonville, and I drove over to meet her. We spent a girly weekend sipping coffee, browsing gift shops, giggling, drinking sweet tea and scrap booking. (I recently found some pictures from that weekend that would go great with this post, but I don’t think she’d appreciate me sharing them… In fact, I wouldn’t appreciate it either. ) It was blissful, and we agreed to do it again this year. We decided it was my turn to fly to her corner of the world. We’ve tossed e-mails back and forth regarding it, and I’ve been promising to look at cheap plane tickets. We have yet to nail down a date, and craziness at work has prevented me from following through with that cheap ticket promise.

I have been reading a book that she sent to me a few months back: Writing Down the Bones. I’ve taken my time reading it, trying to absorb all the good writing encouragement that is within the covers. I’ve only got a few chapters left. I searched her blog this morning, remembering that she had talked about this book there. I wanted to read her thoughts on it. As I searched, I ended up reading several older blog entries, and the loneliness of daily life without my special friend hit me hard.

It’s time to nail down that weekend. I need giggles, coffee, and lots of gut wrenching catching up my friend.