Saying Goodbye

I'll be saying goodbye to the kids in a few days while Mr S and I head to Greece for 10 days of archaeological wonders, lots of ouzo, long walks and off-the-beaten path adventures. It's a chance for us to nurture our relationship after 7+ years of parenthood, so while I'll miss the kids, I'm so looking forward to a chance to talk to my husband about something other than schedules, honey-do lists, and the kids. The kids will be in the able hands of their grandmothers, and they'll be having so much fun, they'll hardly miss us at all.

But there's another goodbye this week, and this one is a sad one for the family. My daughter's best friend and her family are moving away. They're headed back home to Minnesota for a great job opportunity for her dad and to be closer to their family. Sofia has been her stalwart best friend for two years now, which in kid-years is close to forever. The news has affected my seven year old deeply, and her heart is close to broken when she thinks about it too much. Luckily, kids don't think about things too much, being so busy with the playing and the swimming and listening to the Broadway cast recording of Annie for the millionth time this week. But friends don't come easily for my girl, and she is anxious at the idea of a playground without Sofia next year. It's hard at seven to say goodbye to your best friend.

She's not the only one who's sad. I've made a few good friends (hello, Montco Sit and Knit!) since I moved, but Sofia's mom was one of my absolute favorites. She's down to earth, hilarious, and someone with whom I felt instantly comfortable which is rare for me in my current social milieu.  

So I did what any bereft knitter with friends moving to cold climates would do. Embracing my inner Tiennie, I knit each of them a hat. They'll need the wool hats, and this way, they are sure to remember us.

Check my Ravelry project page for details on each one.

I've been trying to comfort my daughter by assuring her they'll always have these two years, and they'll always be each other's first best friend. We've talked about being pen pals and e-mailing and always sending a Christmas card. I reminded her about how we moved away, and we still have our friends back in Richmond, even though we don't see them often.

And I told her how they now have matching hats, and on those frigid Minnesota mornings, when Sofia pulls on her hat, she'll think of her friend in Philadelphia wearing the same one. It's like the knit-version of the best-friend necklace, where each friend wears one half of the same charm.

And while I didn't make matching hats for Heidi and me, I too am hoping that on those cold mornings, when she's getting her three kids ready to brave to cold, she'll pull on these warm wool hats and think of us, her friends in Philadelphia.