I keep trying not to be sad, but I am. Pauline has driven me crazy at times, but I love her dearly and she and I have a very intimate relationship -- and no, I have not become bi, thanks. Five or six months ago and I would have said, THANK GOD, if she'd told me she was leaving, but we worked things out, as good friends do, and I miss her. There are things that only she and I tell each other about our husbands and our kids and our lives. There are only certain types of friendships that will support that kind of intimacy. She and I have that kind of friendship. My friend Sue and I had that kind of relationship at one time, too. And then she moved away to various places and finally, Iceland.

I helped move Pauline's stuff into her new house and we talked about where things should go and it was hitting me as I vacuumed the single carpet in her new home that I would miss the commonplace things about our friendship. Things like making salsa and running a bowl over to her house to get a verdict on its palatability for someone who likes hot peppers just a little bit less than Mike and I do.

As Pauline hugged Genevieve and got her giggling over belly berries, i.e., raspberries on her tummy, she looked at me with tear-filled eyes and said how she'd miss all of us. As I heard the heh-heh giggle from Genny, I thought about how much we'd miss her, too.

She got to be there when Genny first got up on all fours on Friday night. We all watched her yesterday as she got up and rocked back and forth for the first time. We talked about how we were going to have to childproof that house as soon as possible. We simply didn't talk about the obvious -- the fact that I wasn't going to be able to loan her a dress or offer her stir-fry or be there to give her a hug when the kids were being teenagers (said with a tone of exasperation) or her husband was being a MAN (also said with a tone of exasperation) or when I was ready to sell my seven year old to the best offer on ebay or ready to send Mike packing for making up some ridiculous story about why his set of chores didn't get done.

I miss her today. I miss her simply for the fact that I can't go to her door and see if she'd like a slice of zucchini bread.