That said, I'm going to miss my Dailies, the other parents I see every afternoon at pickup, with whom I gab for just a few minutes about life and kids and the neighborhood and, in B.'s case, our weekly tennis fiasco.
Just before Christmas, B. and I agreed that we would start playing tennis every Thursday morning when school resumed. We agreed that we would block this time out, write it in pen on our planners, consider it sacred. ...Only the first week she had to cancel because she had a long-scheduled appointment. The following week I had one. Then she had asthma and a cough. Then it rained. Then we had The Great Blizzard of '08. And so on and so forth. The fact that we never managed - NOT ONCE - to play became a source of great amusement to us as we each began to pretend we'd been on the court waiting for hours on end.
Here is the voicemail B. left on my cellphone last Thursday, when the temperature was a mere 93 or so. This is her response to my own message asking why she wasn't at pickup and why she had stood me up on the courts that morning. (The first voice you'll hear is my own, detailing the day and time of the call*.)
|VM from last Thurs...|
Sure, B. and I will have lunch at least once over the summer, but the casual, every afternoon catchup won't happen. And though I know I'll see A. and E. and maybe even J., and I'll probably talk to K. every once in a while, it just won't be The Same.
Have a great summer, my fabulous, funny Dailies. I'm going to miss each and every one of you.
* I didn't enter any info, much less an age, on the hosting website, and it decided to profile me as being 30. I don't feel the need to correct that.