Most of you know that my Breton Bestie has been re-patriated to France last week. There was a tearful farewell on four sides (BB’s daughter is DD’s bestie). But the first moment that it really sunk in was when I had to put down an emergency contact a few days later for DD, and automatically put down Breton Bestie’s name. Which I then had to cross out. Boy, that hurt. I actually had to take a moment to compose myself.
In the five days she’s been gone, we’ve had a Skype chat and I’ve drooled over her beautiful Parisian Haussmann apartment. We’ve used messaging apps. But it’s finally sinking in that she’s gone. She’s really gone.
We both know what it’s like to be expats, to raise expats, and the extra effort that goes into maintaining ties and bonds. We’re both working mothers, corporate wives, raising hormonal tweens… but you know what, I think we’re going to do it. For two years, she has been my reality check, my irreverent partner in crime and my sounding board. She was my first blog follower, my champion and the slap upside my head when I needed it. That, my friends, is gold dust.
So today, I am grateful for social media, and messaging apps, and Skype, and everything else that is going to keep me connected to BB. I’m so grateful I have a BB.
Who’s your BB? Send them a text. Or an email. Or an inappropriate meme. Something to make them remember that they’re loved and important.