Re: The Places We Once Went

Letter Two.

July 14, 2026

Rachael,

Today I went to Dollar Tree. I know, earth-shattering stuff, but I walked through there with Calvin this morning after an appointment and it struck me again.

That feeling. The memory. The sensation of walking into a place where we both walked together not too long ago. I hadn’t realized that I hadn’t been there since that time we got coffee and did a little ballin’ on a budget. I can’t really remember even when exactly that was.

That’s the frustrating part for me, Rach.

The times we had the last year or so we couldn’t easily just get out and shop and pretend things were normal for a few hours. And that was okay. I loved bringing my chaos to your house. I loved when your boys would get so excited to see their friends and you were so excited to see me. We made our chaos work for us.

But today? Walking into the Dollar Tree in Oak Grove was supposed to be just a casual little trip with Calvin because the money he got from his Grandpa on Charlie’s birthday( because my big boy was very openly jealous and I love that he owned it) was burning a hole in his pocket.

But I walked into the craft aisle and I got hit by another wave of loss.

It was so visceral. I felt my body react like you were about to turn the corner and show me something cute you were getting for your boys. I was waiting for your voice. I was waiting for your laugh.

I had to put a hand over my chest.  I had to hold back what felt like another punch of grief in the middle of a store aisle at 9:45 in the morning. Like I was moved by the yarn selection and not that I missed my best friend so much it made me want to cry all over again.

I think that’s been life these days. I have good days: Yesterday was Charlie’s birthday and it was lovely. He got to spend it with his mama getting Starbucks, going to see a movie, and a mini shopping spree at 5 Below. Cake and pizza and ice cream at our house after. It was low key and it was just what Charlie needed.

And all that good I felt yesterday is still there. Just shifted a little. Because I know you would have been over here with your boys. I know you’d have been asking me how I felt for my baby to turn 5 and start kindergarten later this month and you would have understood why I felt so emotional.

I miss that. And I cry randomly, which I used to just joke about, but now it feels like something is wrong with me.

And logically, I know that there’s nothing wrong. I know that this is part of grief. Of loss. But it doesn’t make it feel any easier.

I hope that as time goes on, that I find I’m not hit with the loss of you, but the memory of you. When I walk into Panera Bread, or Dollar Tree, or a thrift store or Grin Coffee, I hope I’m bombarded by the good memories of our time there together. That the pain isn’t the thing that lingers, but the joy.

I want to be able to walk into a place we walked together and be comforted by the fact that you were here. You were loved and you loved well, and you were my best friend.

You walked the planet at the same time and place as me and we found each other. How miraculous is that? 

Out of all of  history and space, God made it so two indoor cats and kindred spirits could find one another and be seen and know what sort of friendship I imagine Jesus had with his disciples.

You know Peter would have been goofing it up with Jesus and the others as they shared some bread and wine and company in the spaces between the ministry we see lived on the pages of scripture. And boy, Peter was the goofiest of them all with his little hobbit sword and his mouth that tries to pass checks it can’t cash.

But there was real love there. The kind that says this is what it’s about. If Jesus wept over Lazarus, and he grieved over others, I fully know that Jesus gets what it means to be struck by loss in the middle of the Dollar Tree. To miss a friend’s presence so dearly that it hurts.

Jesus knows that the reason I am writing this blog is because I recognize that our friendship wasn’t just a gift, but a blessing. That I need to keep you alive in my memory and my actions, and my relationships because only a fool would choose to forget a blessing when it showed up.

And girl– I got some organizational supplies and goodies for a deal. I’m no fool in that regards. And I don’t plan on being the fool to forget a kindred spirit when God put us in each other’s paths.

I may be a fool for a cold Diet Coke can, though.

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Email: amandag@kindredforkeeps.com