Sometimes I feel like life is just a long list of people I miss. I imagine that feeling is inescapable, because even if you never move, other people will move away from you, and then you still end up having people to miss.
I really like Virginia, but it's not comfortable yet. It's still all new and exciting. And I miss comfortable. I miss friends who already knew me. So I could joke around and laugh instead of make the joke and then apologize because I realize I don't really know them that well and I worry that perhaps they don't think jokes like that are funny.
It makes me sad to realize that none of my kids will remember living in Cincinnati. They are so young, and Danny may have already forgotten it. Jill still talks about it sometimes, but that will fade with time.
I wish I had more pictures of my friends. I look through my pictures, and they are almost all of my kids and my kids' friends.
I miss my library and one specific children's librarian who was amazing.
I miss friends who would do things like buy me Gatorade when I was sick or pick up groceries for me when I was busy and let me write them a check later or just come over and talk to me while I did my dishes or help me eat my leftovers so I didn't have to feel guilty about throwing so much away.
I miss already knowing who I trusted to babysit my children.
I miss grocery stores where I know which aisle to go in to find the tricky items, like pimentos, frozen ravioli, and barley.
I miss having in-laws just ten minutes away who always loved to see my children and always had dinner on the table.
I miss the YMCA with its great programs and the women working there who knew my children's names.
I miss knowing where everything was. I miss knowing where the parks are that have baby swings and which parks have mulch or grass or sand or rubber.
I miss sitting in Relief Society and knowing the face and some of the story of every woman in the room.
I miss familiar.
I miss comfortable.
I miss my old home.