I’m not a big fan of Facebook. I used to be, but like all things interwebz, it has largely lost its appeal. However, because I moved from Tennessee to Arizona, it is one of the easiest ways for me to check in with friends from back “home” (if I dare still call it that, since I’ve been in Arizona 11 years…) Even when I haven’t logged on in a while, I can go to their wall, see what they’ve been up to, and, from afar, peek into their world. Some of the best friends I’ve ever made and ever will have had the luck to have known I made while I lived in Tennessee, and I miss them terribly. For a ton of reasons – money, not much vacation time at the jobs I’ve had, and the time difference – I’ve had very few chances to visit. In fact, only one that didn’t involve ducking out on family – if I’m going to take an expensive 4 hour flight to lose 6 hours (due to the time difference) over just a weekend, it’s hard not to see family. But I’ve always considered my close friends to be family, too. And in some ways, a more important family – the family that you choose, rather than the family you are dealt. So, even though it’s not the face-to-face time and relationship I’d like in an ideal world, having the ability to stay connected through Facebook has meant more to me than perhaps they would ever suspect.

So I was absolutely devastated tonight to log into Facebook to discover that my best friend from high school has deleted her profile and disappeared completely.

She and I hadn’t been great at keeping in touch – it’s been since 1994 that we lived in the same place, but even through college and grad school, she and I saw each other every chance we could get, occasionally emailed, and caught up on the phone from time to time. We’d lost touch when her email address had changed after grad school, and I found myself wondering how in the hell I would find her again and wishing I had taken pre-emptive action to make sure I had an up-to-date phone number and mailing address for her. Then, much to my relief, she eventually joined Facebook. We messaged back and forth, sharing details about our private lives and effortlessly picked up where we’d left off. We didn’t message all that frequently, but it was a great comfort that I knew where I could find her when I needed her. Again, I took that connection for granted. She and I had a friendship like none other I’ve ever had – she was there for me in some of the darkest hours of my life, she was there when I have been blissfully happy, our relationship had stood the test of time. I always felt that, no matter how many years passed, I could show up at her house and she would warmly bring me into the fold, give me a bedroom to crash in, and stay up until all hours with me, laughing hysterically, or tucking me in and staying by my side while I sobbed. Because we have done all of those things together. I was there when she met her husband, when she got engaged, when she got married, for the birth of her first son. She has been there for me – when I got dumped, when I met someone new, when I moved to Arizona, when I got married, and when I had baby, even if only via Facebook message. I’ve had a picture of her and me at my bedside for at least 13 years straight. So now, to find that she has vaporized from the site…I just don’t have any words.

Sometimes when baby cries and I can’t figure out what’s wrong with her, I just tell her over and over that everything is going to be okay. I wish there were someone who could do that for me right now.

My Childhood Home

My parents sold my childhood home today. Sigh. It had to happen. It just makes me all nostalgic for all those memories. Using the clothesline for a GI Joe zipline (Yes, I was a tomboy). Playing in the backyard, the tire swing, the “forest” down the road, and the field behind the house. Staying inside on snow days and watching the snow fall through the enormous dining room windows.

I guess this will have to do for whenever I want to revisit that place.