My roommate has been gone for a week. Visiting her boyfriend in Arizona. She comes back tomorrow morning and I’ll be the one picking her up from the airport. I am so excited to see her. I’ve missed her terribly.
For a while, I thought it might be a good idea to move into an apartment on my own. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about the hassle of sharing anything. Sharing a bathroom, sharing a kitchen, a living room, a phone, anything at all. Understand, I am not saying that I hate sharing or the act of being generous. I simply worried about invading each other’s space. But now that I’ve gone almost two months living with this girl, I can hardly imagine living
anywhere with anyone else.
Amy is a fantastic person. She is someone I can go to at any time of night just “to talk” and I know she would never get mad. She could care less about the hour or the reason why and she doesn’t do it to be polite. She cares about me and maintaining a constant stream of communication.
We’re friends. It’s not the same without her here. I know her cat Rudy agrees with me. Every night since she’s been gone, I’ve heard a startling thump come from Amy’s room. It finally dawned on me what it was–Rudy trying to jump through Amy’s front window, only he met with glass instead of landing on Amy’s mantel. When I walk out the door every morning, I meet Rudy there at my feet and he meows very loudly at me.
He meows again.
“Are you hungry?”
“What do you want?”
“You miss Amy?”
Continues to voice his opinion.
“Yeah, me too.”