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The first time I Googled the distance between South Africa and Columbus, Google told me to go fuck myself, but once I realised that I had made a typo Google delivered the cold, hard truth. Google candy-coats nothing – if you don’t trust me just type ‘childbirth’ into the search bar. I did it because I wanted to get my information from a trusted source before I standardised my response to that dreaded question: why didn’t you ever have children?

The distance between South Africa and Columbus is 13 392 kilometres. If I travel to work and back for the next 535 days, I will have covered the distance it would take for me to stop right in front of the house we are hoping you will find next week. That’s how physical distance works, but we have invented so many ways of bridging this distance. We can hop on a plane, take some time off from work and be knocking on the front door of your American house, up that American road in that American state.

Thank goodness for technology – the same technology I curse every fucking day when my laptop refuses to be a laptop unless I update the piece of shit software every 2.5 seconds. Technology also means we can chat every other day, just like we do now. Addison can still type me her encrypted messages that neither one of us understands and she can still facetime me when I am at my ugliest. You can still send me pictures of Logan smearing his food all over the pink feeding chair he inherited from his sister. There is no reason I can’t get video clips of the makeshift toys you and Brendan make to keep the kids entertained. Nothing has to change right?

But I am all about reality, so let’s just admit – everything changes now.

Addison’s warm hugs will be replaced by virtual hugs and nobody will ever put 7534 clips in my hair all at once. I won’t have to cringe as she mixes all of her paint colours, flipping my OCD switch and I won’t have to steal glances at Logan while Addison’s not watching. In my experience, change always comes with a certain amount of pain or discomfort.

Luckily, the reward is sometimes worth it. In this case my pain – and undoubtedly yours – will buy Addison and Logan a backyard where they can play outside. Our pain buys them the opportunity to learn in a safe environment where the standard of education is more in line with what they deserve. Our tears will buy them a future where they are less likely to become part of a statistic that makes your skin crawl. Our tears for their freedom seem like a good deal to me.

So, while I am broken about the fact that a month from now you will board a plane that takes you 13 392 kilometres away from here, I am also grateful. I am grateful for thirteen years of the purest form of friendship I have ever known. We have always rooted for each other and therein lies the strength of our connection – we truly want the best for each other. I am grateful that I always felt unconditionally loved and accepted in your presence and in that of your entire family.

I am grateful for sharing in the adventure that was raising two beautiful children with gorgeous smiles and beautiful souls. I am grateful for Brendan, who restored my faith in husbands all over the world with his quiet strength and his unshakable love and support of his wife and children. I am grateful for tiny arms around my neck every time I came around and that indescribable joy the moment that Addy first spoke my name – I should say our names because from the moment she could talk, Addy always considered me and Charese to be a unit, called Né-and-Shwies.

The National Geographic Traveller ranked Columbus 11th on its historic destinations list in 2008, describing the city as authentic, unique and unspoiled. Those are three words I readily use to describe our friendship, which makes me think that maybe Columbus is equipped to look after four of my favourite treasures.

I also discovered that GQ named Columbus as one of the 62 reasons to love your country. I can still think of 62 reasons to love my own country as crazy as that sounds and I am pretty sure you will find more than 62 reasons to love your new home.

While I am trying to wear my big girl panties, I do have legitimate fears. People easily outgrow each other and that was my initial fear when you started talking about leaving. So, I decided to remind you of a few things we survived together:

I survived listening to Britney Spears in your car thirteen years ago – only because there was a good bit of Paramore and Flyleaf in between
Miemie – we both survived Miemie and that’s how we know we can do anything
We both survived my insecurities and irrational behaviour in the dark years when I would crap all over you because you ignored me – you have since learned that I can’t be ignored or completely understood
That one dodgy new year’s party of which I remember very little apart from the fact that I fell asleep next to a man – that hasn’t happened again I am proud to report
Audits at Frio Foods
Graduating – you did it a few times more than I did, but you always want to show off, like that one time you got the number of that extremely hot chick at The Terrace and I later found out that you knew her and the entire thing was staged
Teazers and the wrath of Russian stripper number 4
Brendan’s youth
Witnessing that crazy thing Addison did with the Spaghetti that one time – I still have nightmares and flash backs
Denny’s tragic death in Grey’s Anatomy
Thirteen years of PMS

I also think that it will be harder to outgrow each other if we have a clear idea of our expectations. So, I managed to draw up a list of what I expect from you and what I am willing to offer from my side.

So, this is a list of my expectations:

Make some space for pictures of Né-and-Shwies on your wall
Talk about us so our kids don’t forget us
Send video clips of birthday wishes every year
Don’t vote for Trump – fucking ever
Don’t attend Justin Bieber concerts – I will cut you
Do whatever you can for Logie not to have a yankie accent – we pray this
Get a little emotional whenever you hear the South African anthem
Only ever speak fondly of Karen Zoid, Ingrid Jonker and Speckled Eggs
Remember we gave you Charlize Fucking Theron and Trevor Noah – do not claim them
Don’t ever say you have better wine
Don’t every say you have better meat
Good people don’t go to Katy Perry concerts – if they do, they hide it
Don’t make America great again – we don’t want to hear how great the US and how crappy SA is
Don’t start calling Bakkie’s trucks for fuck’s sake
If you go to a Pink concert, don’t tell me – even if I tell you that I want to know, I really, really don’t
Don’t start calling Autumn fall – remember in South Africa fall is what you do when you hear gunshots in the mall

In return I shall:

Send you weekly updates on the crime statistics so you can feel better about taking my kids away from me
Get rid of the Voodoo doll I may or may not have that may or may not resemble you with an American flag wrapped around its head with a pin up its ass
Send you Speckled Eggs once a year that will get lost in the mail before it leaves South Africa
Send you biltong once a year that will get lost in the mail before it leaves South Africa
Remind you what the Rand/Dollar rate is once a week so you can gloat while I vomit in my mouth
Wait patiently for Addy to get to the age where she can send me a text message that we can both understand
Save some hard-earned cash so we can visit you to make sure our pictures are still up and Logie doesn’t sound like a fart

I think this should be a walk in the park. We have never been overly emotional and if I disregard the daily breakdowns you suffered at work when I first met you, we haven’t seen each other cry. I am not about to start that shit now. Now, you get on that fucking plane and keep Addison and Logie entertained in a confined space for as long as it takes to travel 13 392 kilometres. The rest should be easy in comparison.