There's no way to do it, really, and I hope I don't have to. I hope that this isn't goodbye to these friends, this family that has surrounded us, loved us, and gotten us through hard times in the past five years. We love you so dearly.
When I was in a sorority at UGA, the seniors would create senior wills, sharing memories and entrusting those best friends of theirs with places and people that they were leaving behind. Here is my Normal, Illinois will, in no particular order.
To Melissa Libert: I leave you birthing class, walking on the trail with infants, golden breastmilk, birthday lunches at Garlic Press, all holidays, festivals, parades, and the Farmers Market. I leave you ISU homecoming, the Children's Museum, Thanksgiving with your family, and New Years. To you go old houses with only one bathroom, swim lessons, the Coffeehouse, Station 220, Katie's Kids, picnics at the park. I love your friendliness, your confidence, your energy. Every holiday is a big deal worth celebrating, and you make them fun for other people too. You are one of my favorite people in the world, and I have so enjoyed raising our children together.
To Randi Morrison: I leave you trains. I leave you little boys, Bible study disruptions, apple orchards and pumpkin patches, selling houses, IPads, sleep overs, flying kites, floods, Lightroom, Chipotle, double rainbows, Culver's. You get game nights and my bird shirt, first camping trips, Kohl's sprees, the zoo, the perfect sweet tea. To Sean: jelly beans and icecream, dreams for our back deck, cherry picking, Chicago Fire, Sam's hot chocolate. Randi, I admire your faith and devotion to Christ, your unwavering honesty. You are focused and ambitious, always looking for ways to improve your family's life; you are a strong woman. I will miss days of sitting around and talking about life while our kids babysit each other.
To Emily McClintik: I leave Bible study and prayer group, husbands who are boys, English majors, Kidsview, meeting after services in the cafe (and those doughnuts). To you go hot tea and cold chai, busting in on birthday parties, Dairy Queen, camping ticks, no heat or air, Donna Epperson. You have such a gentle yet fierce spirit; you ground me and model for me the life of a Christian woman. I will so miss seeing you biweekly.
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To Beth Pearce: To you goes the South. Also, road trips, all kitties everywhere, moving offices, faculty, faculty. I leave you butter, Kelly's, Mexican food, Michael's first restaurant and grocery store trips, summer movie days, Friday lunches, confusing subway ticket machines, the WB lot, waiting to hear from JD, sitting in the back row, Christmas tree hunting, Target, power outages, Big Pico and Little Pico. You get Carl's, the aisle seat, the circus, too many cupcakes, Halloween parties, Cracker Barrel, cool hairdos and flatirons, singing first birthday cards, and all the things. I have never had a better friend than you; your support constantly amazes me. You have always been there, fighting on my side whether it be against crazy old men or my own son. We have truly been living life together, and I am going to feel a huge hole when I no longer have your company.
To Emily Woster: I leave you Bob, the ISU PhD program, no jobs, knitting and scrapbooking, Elvis and Annabelle, getting locked out and breaking down, picking out Ella, finals sleepovers, library book sales, skunks, fleas, and all other infestations, our office, crazy professors, crazy peers, snoring. You get shared conference panels with dolls and pompoms, answering the door on Halloween, falling into rosebushes and spitting out gum, rolling down hills and chasing kites. To you go walking the trail, the lake, shoes, dreaming about your sister, Southern teas, gross ChLA showers, writing group, being the same person for Joe, gardens, First Fridays. You have an old soul, and it draws people in with its surety, its comfort, its safety. At the same time, you are one of the goofiest people I know, and that fun side also includes everyone in its joy for life and self-abandon. When I think of graduate school, I will always think of you first as we tried to blaze our paths together.
To Danielle Duvick: I leave you my son's infancy, bead shops, Christmas gift exchanges, the Sandwich Fair, my grandma, cookie-making, sharing clothes, Jan, Twilight premiers, dog bites, Michael's first swim, Wherenburg, homemade pie and barbecue, wanting a girl. My favorite thing about you has always been your flexibility and your laid back nature; you are always up for anything, never in a rush, always along for the ride. Michael will forever have a special place in his heart for you too, his first second mother.
To Beth Zold: I leave you Mr. Tim, running like a wolf and poofing with grass clumps. I leave you my graduation gown for your cordoroy skirt, being exactly the opposite in most ways, falling asleep early, kitty-shopping. To you go fear of children, job meetings and interviewing, MLA, Revenge. You are the successful one, and I look to you to pave the way for my own future plans. Hold Tim together, and never forget how much we both love Butterfingers.
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To Meg Gregory: To you go Baby Boy Pico and Beth Pearce. To Gretchen Frank: To you go Normal and all future photograph opportunities.
To the ones who have already left me behind: Ashley Barnish, Kelly Hill, Melissa Smith, I already guard the memories you created for me. Places are never quite the same without the people who used to make them alive and meaningful, so Normal is already a different place without you.
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