Too Far Away

I wondered if Jill was dead because there had been zero communication via facebook, email, phone or blog for WEEKS. Ok not weeks. But maybe a span of days which is kind of unusual. However I wasn't dead and I also had gone electronically silent so I figured I should give her a call.

I called her when I was running a little bit early to a meeting that required a 20 minute walk (I had given myself 35 minutes on the assumption/guarantee that I would get turned around and lost). I was worried though and the time zone thing hoses up most chances of catching Jill in the evening. But I got her voicemail.

As much as I struggle to find my way around work... and I've been there three years... Jill... oh my. OH MY. The woman has lived in Oakland County her entire life but please don't let her leave home without her GPS.

You may be wondering if I'm lost at work, then how can I even make a peep about Jill. My direction skills stink- I'm the first to admit it. However, I also work in the largest building in the world. I'm not kidding. Look it up.

But residents of Michigan come with the pre-made hand map. Residents of most suburban Detroit locations come with the benefit of mile roads (8 Mile really is a road, not just a movie...). If you hit 11 Mile and you meant to get off at 10, you know you need to turn around. And most neighborhoods are even lined up in neat little rows- no crazy meandering dead end cul de sacs.

Jill and Sheryl combined trying to find anything is hopeless. We somehow feed each others directional impairment.

To this day Jill's mother will never forget overhearing Jill tell me on the phone that she will meet me at the corner of Pearson and Leroy. These were streets in the neighborhood we'd grown up in. Parallel streets.

It's a good thing Jill's mother wasn't privvy to our email-followed-by-frantic-phone-call episode a few weeks ago. I'm coming to Michigan this summer and Jill and I have been talking about this trip for MONTHS. Apparently Jill has also been planning to go on vacation for MONTHS. The same week. As we swapped a few emails and finally realized the conflict- me banging my head on my desk and Jill on her child, dog, or whatever comfort from home was nearby, I finally thought to ASK her where she was going on vacation.

Holland. Holland, Michigan. HOLLAND, MICHIGAN. Which is directly enroute to one of my six stops in 9 days during my Michigan vacation which I must have told Jill about at least 17 times in the 6 months I'd been planning this mess. I'm also pretty sure Jill was under the impression Holland was somewhere near the U.P. or Kansas or whatever. But it's on the way. I get to see Jill. And her giant, perpetually growing children. If I had to find the corner of parallel streets or make a detour to China to see her, I would.

I miss that it used to be as easy as looking out my bedroom window and seeing if Jill's mother's car was in their driveway to know if Jill could come out and play. Even the span of two connected back yards was once painfully too far away. Can you imagine what 2300 miles feels like?

-Sheryl