The Unfinished Conversation

It's that time of year where, in the last month, my time has been divided between being mom, working and helping friends leave for their furloughs or finish (when someone leaves the country and doesn't have plans to return). This process involves very practical help like cleaning out the kitchen (if you're a good friend, you tackle their fridge :)), helping pack boxes that will go in to storage, watching their kids or being that honest friend that says "Do NOT pack that faded, hole-y t-shirt! You'll be at Target in a week with Starbucks in your hand and can get a new one! Heck! You could buy 10 of the same one...and send me one while you're at it" :)

While this is happening, we're talking about everything furlough related...what restaurant they'll eat at first...what they're most looking forward to about being back in their home country...and what they're most nervous about. We talk about how the kids are coping and swap advice on dealing with transition. We set our prediction on what's going to happen here in our little community during the next year, what school activities are coming up or what will happen at work.

We promise to pray for each other.

We don't promise to keep in touch. Having a foot in both worlds is hard and nearly impossible to navigate well. We've all tried it and we've likely all failed.

The morning of our friends flight arrives and per tradition, we rise early and head out to our airstrip. Typical for this time of year, the fog covers our centre like a heavy blanket. Even in those early hours we're talking about all sorts of things...how everyone slept, what's the connecting flight for today, all the while eyeing the sky, waiting for the sun to break through and lift the fog.

The fog is lifting and the time comes when the pilot approaches the gate and says "5 minutes before boarding!"

The conversations quiet, the hugs...and sometimes tears...begin.

You watch your friends load the plane and wave for one last time. At least for now, the conversation is put on hold. In a year (or more!), we'll hit the resume button and pick right up where we left off.