Robin is leaving me again. She's only been home from Africa for three months and she's already jetting off again, this time for London. London! One of my favourite places is claiming one of my favourite people.
It's all happened rather quickly. She was offered an amazing job last week and she will be gone by next Friday. I don't know how I feel about it - I'm excited for her. But I'm (selfishly) sad for me.
I lured her to my place last night with the promise of wine and cheese and her favourite nibblies, fully intending to tie her up and stash her in my closet so she couldn't leave me. My plan worked against me, though, as the wine made me unable to do much beyond tearfully promising to visit next year. Plus Robin knows me well and brought a shiny thing (in the form of the most beautiful starfish necklace) to distract me.
So. My lovely friend is leaving again. I'm trying very hard to be supportive. I really am happy for her and excited for the adventures that lie ahead. I just miss her when she's gone. She's been my Robin since she moved to my neighbourhood when we were seven years old. I love her to bits. And I'm not just saying that so she gives me a free place to stay when I visit London.