Kyle (here and here, I love his story of what he did) and his young family are moving away, and it’s hard to see them go. I gave them my cousin Grant’s name, someone they’ll likely meet at church, to help them feel at home right away in a strange city by being able to make connections right off.
Meantime, today, other old friends who’d moved away four years ago were back again and told us they were now in the area for good: they are a couple who had gone through much to adopt two children internationally while they were here before, with everybody here cheering them on, doing fundraisers to help with the expenses, sharing worries over the medical issues of one of the little ones… Their new children became ours, too.
The younger one, having not seen me since he was a small toddler, took one look at me this morning and threw his arms around me. I tell you. I could get used to being needed like that.
They just missed the Bay Area too much to stay away.
If only all good friends who fly away could share that migratory pattern and return. (Yes, yes, Karen, I know, you’re still waiting for me to move home to Maryland. But I do come back to visit!)