Forgiveness

It is one in the morning and I can’t seem to get my brain to shut off tonight. I’m not really sure exactly what it is keeping me up, but I thought…. what better way to release and relax then by blogging? I haven’t been doing much personal writing in the past year or so. I hate that, truly. When Baby Bird looks back on the things I’ve written on MSM during her babyhood she’s going to be disappointed to see how little I documented. I hope she realizes though that it also means I spent more time with her and her siblings!

My brain is completely jumbled with a million things I’d like to talk about, but at the forefront of my mind is this little thing called forgiveness. It’s so hard to forgive, it’s even harder to forgive and forget, and sometimes even harder than both of those is being the person that wants to be forgiven…

I grew up down the road from my childhood best friend. We were inseparable. Nearly every weekend we spent the night at each other’s houses and many afternoons after school were spent together. We’d call each other and agree to meet halfway and then we would walk together the rest of the way to whomever’s house we were spending the day at. We bickered and fought, made up and continued like nothing ever happened. She loved me just as I was and I loved her the same. Then came our preteen years. I’m not sure what changed really, except that we just slowly started growing apart. We made new friends, we became interested in boys… I just don’t know what the turning point was in our friendship.

We were very different, I can say that much at least. I was a band geek, Christian, youth group attending weirdo I guess. I wore boy shorts and black t-shirts, “bondage” pants and flood jeans…. thought I was super cool too. She was popular, played soccer, super into art…. see? Totally different. A lot of things happened those years in high school that we disagreed on, we tried again and again to rekindle our friendship but it just didn’t happen. Then I met J and life took me by the shoulders and swept me away. Words were exchanged… feelings were hurt… and the last time I spoke to my friend was several months before my wedding.

I came across her Instagram account this evening… I still have contact with her mom, so I do know some of the ins and outs of her life right now. She just recently got married, she has her MBA… beautiful as ever and she looks so incredibly happy. And I couldn’t be happier for her. But as I scrolled through the pictures of her life I couldn’t help but feel deep sorrow. Sorrow for the friendship lost, the memories missed… and remembering those childhood days of playing in the neighbor’s vegetable garden, hiding in our secret hideaway beneath the rhododendrons and giggling through the night at absolutely nonsense. My Boogie is the age I was when I have my first memories of being with my friend, we knew each other long before that, but I remember her at that age.

So forgiveness. Forgiveness is hard. When it’s desired, you aren’t promised that you’ll receive it. Maybe someday I’ll get to introduce my beautiful babies to the woman my friend has become. Perhaps someday she’ll have babies of her own and we’ll finally have something in common again. I’m sorry friend. I miss you.

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