I really can't say why that phrase has been row-row-rowing through my head all day, but it got stuck there around 10:00 this morning and hasn't left since. Hmmmm.
On tap for the weekend? Well, there is an eye doctor checkup for me and the daughter, then a hair appointment for me, then the gang of us is heading out to hear (and see, I suppose) the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. Then Saturday will be over and before you know it, Sunday we'll be helping Emma Liar pack the last of her things into her Trusty Travel Trailer. She's hitting the road Monday, starting the long drive back to her beloved St. Joe, MO, neighborhood. She's excited to get back and I'm excited for her, but sad that she'll no longer be the "mouse in the attic" as she put it.
For anyone who doesn't read one or the other of us enough to know the back story, Emma and I met on line a couple-three years ago. We found and easy friendship with each other, and when she suggested a St. Patrick's Day meet up in New Orleans, I was game. So was Bekah.
A very good time was had by all; we laissez-ed les bon temps roulez, fer sure. And then five months later NO got destroyed by Katrina so I guess it's good we went when we did, eh?
Not long after that, Emma and her hubby moved all the way to Georgia to be near his family. And then in the spring of last year, hubby decided he didn't really like marriage all that much and pulled the rug out from under Emma. Mightily. She spent some time wondering what to do, where to go, etc., and somewhere in the middle of her wondering, I suggested she come to NJ. I was serious about the offer - I had the space upstairs in the spare apartment - but doubted she'd take me up on it.
Who the hell in their right mind voluntarily comes to NJ to live? Ahhhh, yes, "right mind" was the key phrase there. And Emma sure wasn't in hers, I thought, when she accepted the offer rather quickly.
A few weeks later, Emma and her Trailer and her two pups pulled up on a hot Saturday morning. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, so we helped her unpack a bit of stuff and get the trailer hid on the side of the house, and then got her good and drunk outside by the fire that night.
It was the beginning of her six months of purgatory, meaning she gets a free ticket to Heaven at the end, OK? You listening up there? She's earned it.
Not a few people thought I was crazy when I told them I'd invited her to live here. Most everyone I know is from NJ, and the attitude was typically NJ: Whattya wanna go and do THAT for? It's crazy. You barely know her. Yadda yadda. My landlord, in particular, gave me a hard time, not believing that I wasn't actually subletting the place to her for money. I told him the truth: I didn't feel put out at all, it won't inconvenience me, and I hoped that someday, if I ever needed help, I'd receive it. Simple enough concept, I thought. He saw it as an excuse to raise the rent and charge me for the water bill. Hahaha on him: he'll get that back in kind some day. I just know it.
Really, though, it was not entirely altruistic of me. I had all kinds of fun visions about what it would be like to live with a friend in the house. I knew we got along well, and I liked the idea of having a female brain around to bounce things off of from time to time. Plus, I was going to show her the beach, the mountains, the flea markets and NYC, take her to the Statue of Liberty, be a regular tour guide, if you will. And indeed, the very next day I threw her in my car and drove her - poor thing still exhausted from her trip - all over tarnation. Well, all over our neck of tarnation, anyway.
"Here's where your job is."
"Here's a good park for the dogs."
"Here's the lighthouse."
"Here's a good place for coffee and cigs."
"Here's a bank."
"Here's a laundromat."
It started off well. But not long after that, a couple things happened to make my life a whole lot busier than it's ever been before. I was working later, driving longer, no time for anything but errands on the weekends. And before long, it wasn't unusual for a week to go by without me seeing her at all.
We still had regular Thursday night "Grey's Anatomy" viewings (sometimes upstairs in "her" place, sometimes downstairs in "mine") and shared Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve, but as the months ticked by I felt increasingly guilty that I had invited her here and promised all sorts of fun, and hadn't followed through. When she announced a few weeks ago that her job would be able to transfer her to her home state in late January, I was happy for her. But sad that time had run out, and still the most fun thing we'd ever done together was the trip we took to NO when we lived 1200 miles apart. Go figure.
Anyway, I told her yesterday that I suppose it was meant to be like that after all. Because fate may have dumped her here, but once she was here and on her own, she took off like a rocket. She learned to navigate around the area, found her way to work and back home, to grocery stores and movies and to WaWa where she could buy her daily crap-puccino. She started working towards becoming a dog groomer and, 100 dogs later, she became certified last week. She has made some near and dear friends, advanced her career, lost weight, gained confidence and inner strength, and I am so, so, so very thankful that I was able to help her, even if it was by NOT always being there.
Emma, we will miss you very much around here. But since you've already started to fly, it's now your time to really soar.
Safe traveling, Godspeed.
P.S. Shoot. How the hell am I gonna tell Max?