Thank you for being intentional and consistent when others weren’t; for seeking out my heart in its entirety and not running from the mess you found.
Thank you for honest conversations over coffee, where guts were spilled and old wounds revisited with such an unfamiliar ease.
Thank you for earning the right to know about my messy life, because you were open as a book and dared to ask questions others wouldn’t.
Thank you for fighting to be a part of my life even when I tried to hide away in my shell.
Thank you for the hours of stomach-clutching laughter, dreaming about our futures, whispering aloud our fears.
Thank you for never making me feel like a burden, what with my constant dependence on people’s generosity to get around town.
Thank you for having faith for my situation when mine was starting to waver. Thank you for those weeks where you had to explain to all the realtors that you weren’t in fact my roommate, just the good friend spending her afternoon house hunting with her desperate friend.
Thank you for calling me out, for giving me grace, for understanding me in ways that were so healing for my heart.
Thank you for being the person I could tell about my crappy day, or my crappy couple of months.
Thank you for being the person who was more excited about first dates than I was.
Thank you for being the sister I never had, the friend I can’t get rid of, the one who makes me promise to be consistent and real even though we’ll be worlds apart.
Thank you for raising the bar. In the event you ever become replaceable, some woman would have some enormous shoes to fill. But who are we fooling? That will never need to happen.
Thank you for caring for my heart, and letting me care for yours. This garden of friendship we’ve cultivated over the past nine months won’t cease to bear fruit – of this I am certain.
Till your journeys bring you back home, I will trust that the one who orchestrated all of this won’t let go of you. Or I.