To absent friends…

May 2, 2008 at 2:55 PM (Uncategorized) (Friends, Personal Nonsense)

I do miss you.  You were the bouncy third of us, the dancer, english major with the fairyland face…who wished all of life were borders, edges, safe corners that you could dance through.  I got too scary, and the other perhaps too far away….But even my worst would not have hurt you.  We miss you.

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It should be 1958, and you should be jitterbugging whith whomever you please…sleevless black dress and elegance…brains and beauty with no hint of risk taking…It should be an ordered world, of course, but it is not.

I do hear though that your bike is rolling through the maples again in the spring sun.    I miss you.

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I am so lucky that you never bailed.  You in the bad jacket with the merciful heart.   I had a dream once.

It’s late afternoon in northern Italy, and you bought that house.  You’ve decided that everyone you ever knew should be invited…I’ve gotten mobile somehow, and have high heels.  I expect to see you first, but the one I *do* see first is even better, (I hear you give great parties) and I suddenly get that this is the Hereafter party…Else why would my husband be standing in a tuxedo in your entryway in late afternoon sun, lifting a hand up to shade his  bluegreen  eyes to see me?

But really, that was a dream.  I hope you get the house, for real, and invite the ones still here…so we sit at sunset and drink a little and laugh a lot.

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One of my father’s people, ‘salt of the earth’ fits you.  You don’t need to be puzzled or concerned about me, you’re just my friend and my cousin.  Simple, straightforward, funny, flawed, enjoyed.  I’ll see you when next I’m home.

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And the enigma, the one I can say anything to who knows things about me my other friends and family do not…who has seen me at the end of my rope and not blinked.

I don’t have to miss you at all, since you’re coming in June.  We laugh as though we are twelve, and nobody gets it…we’re quickwitted, merry, make no excuses, take no prisoners.  I can use twenty thirty, fifty dollar language and you don’t stare as if I’ve just landed from another world. You let me sing.