My good friends Shawn and Andy are moving to Maine in about two weeks, and while I’m excited for them, I’m also bummed out. Over the years, they have been solid friends. When I broke up with a long timer girlfriend in 2001, they gave me their house for a week as I got my shit together. When my dad died in 2002, they were there to help me pick up the pieces.
Week after week, I was at their house on the weekends invited or uninvited. Sometimes I was there the entire weekend. I know I was an imposition, but they never said so and they always welcomed me into their house.
We had a lot of fun times, during those days. There were lots of late night fishing trips with Andy. There were kayak adventures with Shawn. And their Chesapeake Bay retriever, Maddy thought I was her best friend. She probably thought I was part of the family.
Likely, that was the last time I’ll ever set foot on that stretch of beach in Oyster Harbor. I probably won’t ever step inside their house. After 13 years, these places are moving from the familiar to the foreign.
But it’s not about the places, it’s about the friends. I’ll miss them, but I’m sure that we’ll make it up to Maine. And when we do, it will be like old times. I’m looking forward to making new memories with my friends — a little less frequently, and a little further north.