Thursday, February 17, 2011


I had to read the paragraph twice, this morning. My eyes were still sleepy. It was from my friend Nichol. Her baby, born to soon, has apparently suffered some damage to her brain. She will be both physically and mentally disabled. The doctors are unsure of the severity.

Oh my friend Nichol. My heart is broken for you.

Memories of a hot summer day. You dancing in my living room to old Bruce Springsteen. Rosalita. Drunk from an evening of drinking margaritas. You twirling, and your skirt spinning in a circle beneath you. Your face smiling. Your terrible voice trying to keep up with the song.

Mornings of coffees, and long talks. Some of the best talks of my life. Phone calls from across the ocean. Two and three hour long talks, not wanting them to end.

Holidays, and dirty diapers. Birthday parties, and trick or treating. Waking, after having Molly ,to you standing there with a pile of magazines, and you laughing at my snoring.

Last week, my girls wished upon a star for your baby. Tonight, we will call upon them all.

I miss you. I love you.

I wish we could go back to that summer day.

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