Joie de Vivre

A long chapter is closing, not forever, but at least for now. My best friend Joie has moved away. Far far away to the mountains on the other side of the country. I can’t drive to her, I can’t afford to fly to her, we’re video call friends now and it’s a bit lonely.

It happened two weeks ago but it didn’t sink in until it was a lazy Sunday and I was in my garden and picked up my phone to holler at her to come over. Instead I called her, she picked up and showed me her favourite spot by the window of her new place, said “I guess this is our lives now.”

Joie has left a few times in the 25 years we’ve been friends, away for school, away somewhere exotic, adventuring for a year or two, living her best life. Technology was worse in those days, we had long-distance calls from payphones, then grainy Skype calls from laptops. Eventually I had babies and she came back. And she’s been here since they were born. And now they’re six feet tall and still growing and she’s off again, another adventure, a big change.

I’m so excited for her new town and new experiences, her texts and voice messages with updates delight me. I know she’ll be back one day, and I know this is good for her. Joie and I call each other life-partners. We’ve always planned on being old ladies together, riding a tandem bike with a bubble machine that works as you pedal. It’s the only plan I’ve ever made for my retirement. I know time will return her to this part of the world, her parents will age and they’ll need her, her roots are here. I’m glad she’s striking out for a big adventure while she can, untethered, looking for what’s next.

But I miss having her crash into my house, rummage through my cupboards for snacks, rally the kids to get slushies from the corner store, lay with me on the grass in the backyard while we smoke and joke and bitch about the universe, both so in love with it we can hardly breathe. I miss my kindred spirit, partner in crime, soul sister. We met on a dance floor at a rave. I was 16 and high as a kite. She was dancing on the stairs, using them as the perfect place for her skips and hops and bounces as the bass bins shook our bones. She was on the same wavelength, all love and words and sensory wonders. We haven’t stopped since.

Here she is 25 years later, sitting on the porch at the last Sapphic Slumber Party. She looks peaceful and powerful. We went outside to look at the moon at midnight (as we do). It was full and so we’re we. She snuggled up and lit a joint, we breathed in the moon-shadows and the passing of time, knowing that when the Fall party arrived she’d be too far away and I’d be sending her photos of that big orange chair on the porch with a message that says “I miss you.”

It’s good having your loudest cheerleader in the room, but I know Joie cheers so loud that I’ll feel her even from far away.

Joie - Sapphic Slumber Party #10

(Click on the Joie tag to see more posts with her shenanigans over the years.) (Side note she LOVES the word shenanigans.) (She would.)