Yesterday Jen and Pat accepted new jobs in Detroit.
I've known for a long time that they want to get back to her family before they start their own, so I thought I'd be cool with it when it finally happened. I was wrong. The fact that they're leaving ran over me last night like a Mack truck.
Jen's been my confidant, co-conspirator and partner-in-crime for the last two years. She's also my biggest fan and greatest ally. It's great comfort knowing that should the situation arise, Jen would kick a pointy heel in the face of anyone who even remotely implied I am not the greatest thing in the world. (Go ahead, I dare you.)
No one's ever asked me to be in their wedding before, but Jen did. She didn't even get mad when I screwed up the poem I read for them. And she gave a nod to me in the vows she wrote to Patrick.
Jen's also the only person to pick me flowers from her garden and leave them for me with homemade cards. She's made some of the nicest dinners I've ever eaten. And when she runs off to get a scarf at the Race for the Cure, she brings me back one, too. And I don't even have to ask.
You just don't find friends like her very often. If ever.
And yet, this sudden move is partially my fault. They weren't even looking yet. I was the one who found the job postings, first for Pat, a job I thought he'd like doing Flash and graphics. Then a few weeks later, I found the mirror image of Jen's job here, only in Detroit, covering Detroit Public Schools on a site I didn't even know had job postings. (Secretly I considered not sending her the link.)
Within weeks they had interviews, job offers, signing bonuses and counter offers. (If you're looking for a new job let me know. I'm kind of on a roll.)
Of course I'm happy they've found great new jobs together in the city where Jen's family lives. But it's bittersweet. Truthfully, I'm mostly sad about the whole thing.
3 comments:
Now, you've done it. You made me cry!
But listen, don't think my pointy heels don't travel well. Since I'm a metro reporter and occasionally have to chase people down for interviews, I can even run in them -- and fast. If need you me, my pointy heels are here in a second.
And Detroit needs funny, talented, smart writers like you. I'm already looking for jobs for you in a nearby cubicle in the lovely, historic Detroit News building. Need a raise and a bonus? C'mon! My pointy heels are poised to carve a path for you.
Look, I knew the first time I saw your bookshelf -- and all the titles that we had in common -- that we were gonna be great friends. I knew from that time we went Christmas shopping -- and you stayed at my house for a while afterward and I swear we talked about everything from religion to terrorism -- that we were going to be longtime pals.
I knew we would be friends forever that day in Chicago when you travelled six or seven hours AFTER a soccer game -- and you don't even really like Chicago -- to surprise me after Patrick's whirlwind proposal. I knew you were the best type of friend when you actually wanted to edit the poem I selected for my wedding because a line sounded too somber.
I love that I constantly learn from you and want to read what you read and talk on the phone with you and just hear your stories.
Just think of this one example: "Made in Detroit" by Paul Clemens. You know what I mean. Girl, we think alike. How often does that happen? Read it and start packin'.
Best girlfriends don't come along every day, you know.
So get your snow boots on!
:) snif, snif.
Hey Gina -
I know exactly how you feel. I just found out that my best friend is moving too - to Washington state...... It just feels devastating...
Post a Comment