seasons.

Two of my favorite little friends moved a little further away this week.

They aren’t too far, perhaps half a kilometer away. Close enough that they can come during the day, but far enough that they need to be home by dark. And since they spent many late evenings at our house–reading books and helping me cook and watching the clothes wash–this is a loss.

Everything comes in seasons here, as some families come and go; they move houses often; they have jobs and don’t. There was a season where one of the little girls and her little brother spent nearly every night at our house. We were their little safe haven, and in many ways they were mine. She and I played endless games of Memory and her English grew incredibly. It was just a season, though, and their family is in a much better place. She’s nearly a teenager now, and he’s the new Memory champ. The season has changed, but they are still really deeply rooted in my heart.

The next season has been with this new little eleven-year-old and her three-year-old cousin. They have been the ones to spend every evening with us. He falls asleep in my lap a few times a week and asks me to wash clothes every single day so he can watch the washer. She is quite the chef and loves to help chop all the veggies. She is ecstatic if she can sneak in extra computer time or a few games on my phone in the late hours of the evening when she’s the only kid around. She has just recently learned its okay to give us hugs and tell us she loves us; and so she does. She’ll hesitate and then run straight into you and give the tightest hug a skinny little girl could give. And sometimes she whispers in my ear that she loves us.

So in their moving, the friendship doesn’t come to an end, but this season does.