Missing Her

It's in the little things.

The moments of laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

The little neuroses and the teasing about each other's little neuroses.

Freezer cake and a Grey's Anatomy marathon after a really bad day.

Apparently Santa doesn't wear clothing in the off-season. He doesn't sleep in a bed either.

Road trips, and stopping to buy special chocolate milk for a wedding toast.

"squeeky" cheese curds.

Sweet chili chicken, skinny fries, diva salads, and club-med sandwiches at Joey's.

Hanging out for an hour or two before she works a night shift.

Prayers together in a dark car.

Dinner once a week or so, and the occasional girly movie.

Stories about the slightly insane old people on the unit she works on. (I'll never forget the one where she was chased by an old man with a cane, who didn't speak a word of English, and who had previously barricaded the door to his room... or the one about the woman who wandered off so often that they pinned a note to the back of her hospital gown that read "if found, return to unit so and so"... or the one about mashing the sedatives into the filling of the patient's sandwich to get her to sleep...)

Shopping together. Not many can survive a shopping trip with her. She hates shopping, but seems to do it on a regular basis.

Packing for a road trip in a laundry basket, and packing to move houses (again) in exactly the same fashion.

Driving across the city on a whim to hit a particular store or restaurant.

Laughing in the greeting card aisle while on a quest to find the "perfect" sentiments for the people we love.

Teasing and laughing while shopping for lingerie showers for friends.

The everyday stuff of life.

The stuff that isn't intense. Not talking about the dreams or all the harder things, unless I really need to.

I hadn't realized how much sanity those little things brought to my life.

She's on the other side of the globe, working in a tiny hospital, trying to learn an impossibly difficult language, desperately missing the guy she'll marry next summer when she returns from Asia.

I miss her tonight. And I miss all the fun and sanity she brings to my life.

Praying for her, for the things she's asked, and for Jesus to meet with her in the midst of the things she's doing, and the things she's struggling with.

She's on my heart tonight, this best friend of mine. And I miss her.