It's funny how you think you've known someone longer than you have. My friend Mona, for instance, I met four years ago, not the ten it feels. It was summer. I'd just come back to doing weekend radio with the vain hope of catching up on my bills. She'd just started as the new music librarian.
We were fast friends.
Over the past couple of years, I've watched her grow and do things I didn't even think anyone would ever want to do. She's been great and always good company. Together, we've explored at least a third of the bland, half-hearted dives on the West Side.
I regret that we will not find our way to the end of them --if there is an end. Jeez, it's like the only people who can cook over there work at the fucking Taco Bell.
And so, Mona is moving. She leaves in less than a week. My grief over that is only matched by my absolute pride. Mona's next job is going to be amazing. Not only will she accomplish wonderful things in Rochester, she'll see, hear and try things that I will likely envy for the rest of my days.
I wish her every happiness.