One of the best things about moving up to New Hampshire last year was that it brought me within an hour of my best friend, who lives in Boston. She came over yesterday and clapped her hands together as she declared that we should paint the front living room in my house. "Really?" I asked. "You want to spend the day painting?" And she confirmed that she did. I had been planning to do this, so I showed her the paint samples of the colors I'd been thinking about and we chose the one we thought would be best... which was the shade my 10 year old had chosen as well (Burnished Metal-- a pale gray/blue). Then we were off to home depot to get the paint, and home again within a half hour ready to start.
Painting with your best friend is fun. Seriously, don't knock it unless you've tried it! It means there is someone in the room to commiserate with when you first open the can and second guess your color choice. Someone else to plow forward with even after the first section of wall seems less than perfect in it's new shade... "remember, the color from the opposite wall is still reflecting on the new color", or, "don't worry, it will dry a little darker, you'll see". It also means there's another person to sit back and say wow when the color really starts to set in, and it looks good. Having her there made the whole process richer and more entertaining. Did I mention all the caulk jokes we told each other as we caulked the ceiling trim? Man, they were funny!
But to get a little deeper, yesterday was special for a completely separate reason as well. She is moving. The person who I call first, cry with most, depend on, lean on, count on for so much I can't even pull it apart- is moving to California. Painting yesterday felt a little like she was spreading a small layer of her love across those walls. Maybe I cope in bizarre- home remodeling ways- but it was like she was leaving something that will sooth me when she's gone. All the joy of that process; the talking, the cheesy country music she snuck in on pandora, even the really crass caulk jokes were seeping into the walls along with that lovely cool blue gray paint. The kids crashed in and out of the room and she stopped and watched them with the heightened awareness that she would be missing there voices soon. She touched there faces a bit more, hugged them a little longer than usual, moved around trying to soak us into her as much as I felt like she was leaving bits of her for us to have.
This month is hard for me. A countdown to the day when I can't get in my car and go meet her for dinner, or make plans to go thrift store shopping. Days like yesterday are pieces of treasure that are helping keep my head on straight. I know they are numbered, but I am so grateful for every one.
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