Goodbye, friend.

I broke up with Washington DC one year ago today. It was a long time coming, and parts of me never thought I would leave the city I had grown to love. But I did it. I packed up my belongings, gave away dishes and kitchen ware, and parted with my furniture.
I said a tearful goodbye to Diggy - my first DC friend, roommate of 3 years, and my soul mate- who herself, was off to Ohio and eventually Rwanda to serve in the Peace Corps. I had my last shift at RR, drank many last shots of Jameson, and tried to eat at all my favourite restaurants. And at 530am on February 15th, Piggy pulled up in her trusty Jetta and lovingly drove me towards National Airport. As the sky begin to lighten and our song softly came through the speakers, Charlotte trembled in my lap and tears slid down my cheeks.

I was leaving a city that had seen me change from a teenager into a young woman. A city that saw me through college and provided me with my first grown-up job. A city that handed me my first broken heart. And my second. And helped me avoid my third.

I was leaving a city that for so long I had resisted, yet now was so ingrained in my soul that I wondered if I wouldn't be lost without her. A city that provided me with endless laughter, friendship, and warmth.

I was leaving a city that stood by me as I quit my job, and comforted me as I questioned my decision.

I was leaving a city that tested my loyalty more than once.

I was leaving a city that saw me through the Bush years, and allowed me to be present when Obama was Inaugurated. A city that has been called the most powerful in the world, one who holds a deep history unlike any other. A city whose skyline will never grow any taller, but will make me smile every time I see it.

I was leaving a city that entertained me constantly. A city that attracted the acts of Mos Def and Rock the Bells, and let me dance into the wee hours of the morning to Prince. A city that let me prance on rooftops in the rain, and forced me to climb seemingly never ending escalators.

I was leaving a city that brought some of the most amazing people into my life.

I was leaving a city for the comforts of my childhood home. I was leaving a city for the adventure of the unknown.

I left.

I have visited twice since I moved away. The visits couldn't be more different. The first, two months after my move, left me wanting to move back and resume the life I once knew. The second, nine months after my move, not only reminded me of my love for the city, but also why I left her, leaving me to finally be happy with my decision.

A short thank you slash I-owe-you-one to all my friends (in Seattle, in WDC, in New Orleans, and in lands afar). Your endless love, support and words of wisdom helped me get through this past year.

Happy Birthday, Diggy.

Today you turn 27. I wish I could be with you celebrating and throwing down like old times...guess we'll just have to wait until 2013. Much love being sent your way. Happy birthday.

Dearest Diggy,
I have no doubt that this will make you cry. I'm not sure if it will make you cry from a) laughing, b) sadness, or c) a smidgen of both, but you will have salty water dripping down your cheeks. And I will gladly take the blame.

Just be thanking your lucky stars that I'm not making this post into a drinking game.

It's been 364 days since we last saw each other, since we last lived together, since we last dealt with the Howard boys or the epic snow together. And how our lives have changed. You are saving lives and learning new words that have too many consonants in them for me to comprehend, come on ibishyimbo? We both know that isn't real. I am living in the city that you raved about and volunteered in post Katrina - the city that I resisted for so long.

But now I'm here. Living it. And wishing you were here with me. You're in a far off land, doing things that I'm so proud of, but I still wish you were sitting next to me on the sofa watching marathons of Dexter. Or listening to me go on about the latest "hot" new album that I have found. Or gchatting me explaining excel data spreadsheet that is currently ruining your after work plans. We could be sharing a bag of Oreos - you could be driking milk and I could be, well, not drinking milk.

How about a shot or two of Jameson at GC? Or a pizza at RR? I'd even go for a dollar beer at McFaddens.

This is getting a little awkward, it's starting to sound like a love letter.
How about you just hop on a flight and we can grab beignets and a beer together...I know a really great place on Magazine...

Don't worry, I'm still saving third bedroom for you.

Love,
Jigga.