I talked to C today. It’s the first time in, well, an embarrassingly long time. It has to be almost 6 months since we’ve talked.
I called because there’s a huge fire near their house. As of right now (3:43 PM MT), she and M have left with their important papers and pets, and are in a hotel for at least the next 2 nights. She hadn’t gotten a pre-evacuation call, but she wasn’t going to wait with the fire being a mile away. There are fires everywhere in our state. This one just began yesterday and has gotten big in a hurry.
We talked for a little while; not as much as usual, but enough. I can’t believe I hadn’t told her about the fire last April, about 6 miles away, but it was so big that the smoke and flames looked a hell of a lot closer. Or about Baby Bat’s BFF moving almost an hour away. She hadn’t told us about M and her now-ex boyfriend, or her moving back home again.
It feels like a weird relationship. We talk some, but not really about things that happen every day. Even big things. Sometimes we’re extended family and sometimes we just aren’t. I guess that’s okay.