Ten years ago this spring, I graduated from college and left one of my many sweet little homes. My dad had rented a limo to drive my family to the airport, where we were to fly away from Washington, DC, the city I had loved and lived in for four years. I remember staring out the window and crying as I waved goodbye to that old rowhouse and my roommate of three years, KRO. She stood on the stoop, surrounded by flowers that I had planted, and waved back. When I think of leaving DC, I see KRO on that step, her hair glowing in the sun, burning red geum blossoms dancing around her. She looks beautiful in that mind-picture.
And, she still is beautiful. This weekend, KRO flew out to visit me (with a yet-unborn baby as her travel companion). We spent five days enjoying the variable Southern California winter weather.
We did a little of this on Thursday.
On Friday, we hiked to this.
As I do every Saturday to get my produce for the week, we shopped this.
Sunday, I showed her part of my version of LA.
And today, after a morning walk in the drizzle, I took KRO to the airport, to fly back to DC, where her husband and home wait for her. My eyes welled as I pulled away from the airport drop-off. Every time I leave KRO, I cry a bit. She's the star of so many of my stories, the walking companion of streets in more than one continent, the band-aid to post-break-up broken hearts, and the constant friend.
On Saturday night, I invited the WW and CC folks over for dinner to meet the fabled KRO of Christina lore. We told stories and played games. I did my best to make a feast worthy of 14 years of friendship. What did I make?
The answer to that deserves its own post.