See You Later, Kasi Starr

I promised you a story about Kasi Starr but I haven’t wanted to write it for a while.  See, she left.  She moved to another state.  We both knew she probably would, even from the beginning, but it didn’t make it fun for either of us. 

For weeks before leaving, Kasi Starr planned her move.  She packed boxes and gave away stuff and sorted and packed her car then unpacked her car then repacked her car.  She got boxes from the post office and mailed them to her new address.  We took some stuff to less fortunate people.  She bought calming spray for Miss Kitty, so that putting her in her crate would not be traumatic (didn’t work).  She cancelled her gym memberships and had parties with all her friends.  Etc.  However, not once through this process did either of us remember that the end of this process would bring her departure.  Until the day that she left, that is. 

(An aside here – Murphy got it.  He knew what was going on, as evidenced by the urinary soaking he gave everything near her stuff before she left.  The limerick I wrote?  About him peeing on stuff?  Yeah, that was the weekend after she left and I cleaned out from under her bed.)

So the day rolled around that she was to leave.  She had been so excited about her move, the new stuff she was going to do, and I was excited for her as well.  Excitement quickly waned when reality hit.  This was our conversation.

Kasi Starr:  Well, I’m all packed.  I’ll be gone by lunch so I’ll give you a hug now.

Jimmie:  Wait, what?

Kasi Starr:  <silence> <small tear>

Jimmie:  <silence> <small tear>

Kasi Starr:  So . . . . good-bye? 

Right in the middle of the good-bye, she choked.  And then:

Jimmie:  No. Not good-bye. <choke>  How about, see you later?

Kasi Starr:  Yes.  <choke>  See you later.

And then we hugged the tightest of hugs and it was fabulous and awful all at once.  Neither of us wanted to cry because we both knew that once the waterworks started they wouldn’t stop for a while.  I was going to work, the place where I don’t want to look like someone used my eyes as punching bags (as opposed to all the other places I go and DO want to look like someone used my eyes as punching bags), and she was going to be driving a long distance with one seriously pissed off cat.  Tears were not going to work. 

I learned a long time ago that women should never live with friends, if you were friends first.  Nothing breeds contempt any faster than two BFFs deciding that a roommate situation is a great idea.  However, if you meet a stranger and invite her into your home and THEN become friends, well, when they leave it is just awful, especially if that person is sweet and funny and nice and charming and always keeps the house supplied with paper towels.  I am so happy to have made a new connection, a new friend, and I am so happy that she is beginning her new journey.  This is the good stuff.  The awful stuff is that when the new connection, new friend, person, leaves, they leave a hole. 

I got a new roommate already.  She is also very sweet and nice and she understands that I never buy paper towels and so she came home one day with this.


I love them.  They work great.  But it isn’t the same.  When I feel a little melancholy that Kasi Starr is gone, I take a paper towel out to the garage and look at her stuff that she left behind and sniffle.  This is what’s left. 


She’s coming back to get it one day.  When she does, we will give each other the tightest of hugs that will be mostly fabulous but a little awful because it won’t be long before she leaves again. 

When she does, I’ll say, “See you later, Kasi Starr.”  And she’ll say the same to me.  Not good-bye.  See you later.