And then before we knew it, it was Saturday.
Although it would be a lot of driving, I was still determined to get Anna to the ocean. We left town by 8 and headed to Manzanita. She’d not been thrilled about the long drive but once we were on the shore, she was completely won over. After walking for a bit and driving through Manzanita, we headed up to Seattle. The hope was to get there, have dinner at the cider house and not feel rushed to get to the airport. Then, right around Tacoma, we hit a collision back-up. I began to freak as my phone showed a growing red line of traffic and started to consider back-up plans. Then, right as I was about to pull off the highway, the line began to shrink and we slowly picked up the pace. Free from the stagnant anxiety, we turned up the radio and jammed out the rest of the way to Seattle.
We ended up having plenty of time to sit and take in the last week together. What I always fear with these sorts of visits - as in the case with my mom - is reaching the end and noticing spaces where we took each other for granted or didn’t respect the moment as much as we’d wished. As I reflected on our time, I didn’t feel that intense, gripping desperation that I’d felt many times before. I felt thoroughly satisfied. Sure, we’d had moments of melancholy, exhaustion, humdrum, tension…but we had kept ourselves completely and fully present to one another and had some of the most meaningful conversations of our entire friendship. Everything that needed to come to pass had come to pass.
As we hugged one another goodbye, Anna shared how proud she was of us.
“We’re pretty fucking awesome.” I replied.
I love you, Anna!
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