Wary wary BIG sad!



It pains me so to write this, but the set of sweet Swede friends I made last year (Rock and Roll Mom and the Little Blonde One) have disappeared from my life.
Right now, as I write this, my right eye is scrunched up, my brow is furrowed my chest is tight and my nostrils are flared in pain.
Because by proclaiming it, I am finalising it. They moved out of my house and moved out of my life.

The goodbye at the airport was so sincere, so Hallmark, so "For the second time, would the person with the car parked in the drop-off zone move you effing car."
I bawled, they bawled, we bawled, knowing that as shitty and cold as the winter had been, we had made a special home and friendship inside those Central Hillside neighborhood walls.
"I'll see you in Sweden on thirtieth birthday," I said to R.A.R.M.
"Can Seerah sleep in my bed?" said L.B.O.
"Yes darling I will, and I will also be there for your graduation," I said.

I must be delusional.

Because after a few emails that went something like, ("We're home,and sick, and tired but happy)R.A.R.M. severed all communication (and this from a woman who spent six month attached at the hip to her laptop, keeping in touch with her Swedish peeps.)

I sent little emails: "Hi! Miss you!"
inquisitive emails: "Is every thing OK?"
enticing emails: "Do I owe you money?"
nostalgic emails: "Remember this time (insert picture here)"
Nothing, Nada, Zip, Zilch, Intet (that's Swedish for nothing - at least according to an online dictionary.)

I am so sad about this and have made some pretty crazy attempts at contacting them... none of which include making a phone call b/c I don't have her number.
I guess I will just have to bank it in the "friendship flings" category and pretend that it was a lovely dream.