It’s comfortable being known

“Miles have nothin’ on us.”

I say that a lot.

I say it a lot to my soul-sister on Cape Cod – 2,016 miles away.

And to my voice of reason in rural Kentucky – 821 miles away.

I say it to my TXB currently in LA – 1,398 miles away.

And to my soul-friend in Kentucky – 835 miles away.

I say it to my friends 86 miles away, and I say it to the ones 2,149 miles away.

I say it to my sanity-friend 1,539 miles away and to the one 217 miles down the road.

My friend 1,054 miles away hears me say it. So does the one 1,286 miles away.

When you get around as much as I have/do, what else can you do but laugh in the face of Miles and embrace your long-distance community?

And embrace it we do.

We all do.

It’s reflected in small moments.

A phone call at 7:07 on a Thursday morning. “I know you’re on your way to class. I’m driving to work. Let’s visit.”

A package in the mail in the middle of February. “It’s a late Christmas present.” But it’s perfect for now. For this moment.

We embrace each other by sending text messages.

My phone buzzed a couple days ago. “This made me think of you.”

It’s community in what are now thousands of emails from this friend. And a Gchat conversation: “How are you?”

It’s being vulnerable and transparent in those moments. “I’m annoyed.” And upon further prompting verbally vomiting my annoyances that kept me awake the night before.

It’s about comforting, laughing, rejoicing, celebrating and living life with no regard to the distance that keeps us from hopping in the car and barging in the kitchen for a hug. We want to. Badly. We fantasize about the day it might be possible, but we don’t let the moments pass us by. These moments. This one. {The text conversation I have going on with the friend 1,398 miles away and the one with the friend 217 miles down the road. The email exchange with my beloved friend 835 miles away, and the Gchat conversation with the one 821 miles away.}

It’s about the small moments we share.

“I’m laughing out loud right now in the coffee shop.” I might not be able to see her, but now I know.

“We brought home a new kitten yesterday.” I might not be able to meet her in person, but I get a picture and the story.

“You made me smile.” And now I smile.

“I’m picking the kids up from school.” I trace the route in my head while she drives.

“We got a new kitchen table. What do you think?” I admire it on my phone. I love it.

“You’re invited to her birthday party in August.” It’s as if I live across the street again.

“Let’s go to this basketball game together.” OK. Let me book my flight to fly 835 miles. Done.

“She’s hilarious…this is what she said last night…” And my friend’s kid becomes more endearing.

They are small moments that, over the past 10 and 12 years, have created a tapestry of community spanning thousands of miles without ever doubting the sanctity of every single relationship or the magnitude of every single moment shared.

We might be divided by time zones, space, miles, but we’ve mastered the cyber-hug, the essence of snail mail, and we know that no moment is too small to savor, to share.

Believe me when I say they all (and so many others) make my life big.