It's been almost two years since my best friend and I ceased speaking. We had known one another for well over 40 years. I still think of her most days and I can think of no other way to refer to her other than, "My best friend". When I think about her I think about her in the same manner I have always thought about her: I wonder what she might be doing. I wonder how the lobster season went. I wonder if she is well; if she is still struggling to grow and be better than she feels. I think of her in tender fond ways. Mostly I just hope that each day finds her peace and resolution in her own difficult life. I hope she is doing the same for me. I want her to know I am happy and wish her the best. I begin talking to R after thirty years of just wondering. I learn he's survived great obstacles and came out the other side intact. I learn from him that where he lives one can get a tax credit for building a bomb shelter in their home. This all sounds normal to him. I think he...
mostly gentle, sometimes turbulent