There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

-Shel Silverstein

Dear Margaret Mae,

I have this problem. My heart hurts. It started when you decided to get this totally awesome life and leave me behind in Dallas. Now I’m devastated. I won’t get to see your smiling face every week over champagne and cheese or meet up for coffee on a Tuesday or go to a movie on a whim. No, now things have to be scheduled…planned…months in advance. I don’t like it one bit!

Words cannot possibly express how much I love you and how thankful I am to have you in my life. I feel so blessed to be able to call you a dear friend. Neither time nor distance will ever change that.

Now you’re off to that place where the sidewalk ends, that place where a wonderful adventure awaits you. I am so proud and excited for you!

Home is where the heart is. It turns out, your heart found exactly where it was supposed to be in Washington, DC. Dallas will miss you more than you could possibly know.

Please remember, you always have a home here in Dallas. But in the meantime, keep the guest bed warm and open for my visit.

I love you and miss you already.

Love,

MM

Tagged as: Blog Friends, Blogs I Love