washwords

Someday when my niece, aka bucket, fussbucket is big enough to ask. We will tell her the story of when she, her mommy, and I went to Indiana University for a conference.

We had a blast!

While mommy was working, Read more »

4/365: Amy: Freshman orientation, life beyond high school arrived. We shared one laugh and became soul-deep friends. Slept outside the dorm, cried, danced, ate grapes and cookies, sang sad songs. you taught me what joy is.

Part of my 35/365 project. What’s 35/365 or x365? See here.

Old friends, Old friends, Sat on their park bench, Like bookends.
A newspaper blown through the grass Falls on the round toes On the high shoes, Of the old friends.

***

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was A time of innocence, a time of confidences Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left of you, they’re all that’s left me to.

-Simon and Garfunkel, 1968

A month or so ago, no, undoubtedly it was longer now, an unknown number showed up on my phone. As is my practice, I didn’t answer. I often don’t answer the phone even when I know the caller- it scares me, disrupts my rhythm and flow of my days, or, in the case, quiet, writing evening. I especially don’t answer when I don’t recognize the number.

A minute later an email came through. This time from a name I DID recognize. “Just looking up old friends. How are you doing? Call me!” said the message from indeed an old friend, an old friend I hadn’t heard from in years, an old friend I once thought I loved, desparately, painfully, though now I know that feeling was just Read more »