Last year I decided I would write a little something about my best friend Blair every year for her birthday. Yesterday was her birthday, sorry Blair, always a day late.
I sat down a few hours ago and begun to write, realizing a few paragraphs later that what I had was a poem, a lame rhyming poem at that. So I have kept trying and have kept coming up with the same lame poem. Now, hours later I’m here, my face stained with tears and mascara from memories of the last 5 years and no way to adequately describe my love and appreciation for her.
Here’s the first of my cruddy poem. Honestly, I didn’t mean for it to rhyme it just happened that way:
She was there the night my teenage life ended, I didn't say a word other than her name, we sat, hugged and cried and cried and cried. The days I couldn't get out of bed because of S., because of M., because of T., because of me, she was there, stroking my hair, reading me books, reading me journals, or just letting me be. She was the first to know about Kerry, and the first to know about the ring. Also the first to know about the baby (sorry mom) and little Lusi.
........
And then I’m stumped.
And then I lose it.
I miss her. We are thousands of miles away and I miss her. I can’t hug her, I can’t comfort her; I can’t laugh with her the same, or do nothing or everything with her the same. She can’t be apart of my life here, and I don’t get to be apart of hers and she doesn’t get to be aunt Blair.
Our calls are less frequent. We are both so busy and know that its ok, we’ll both always be there. But I miss her.
She sounds tired, sounds sad, and I don’t get to be there. Lying is easier for her over the phone so life is always “good” and the conversation moves on.
I want to hold you, I want to tell you it’s going to be ok like you have done so many times for me.
Keeping going, it will get better.
I will see you soon, and when I do, lets sit and do nothing.
It’s late, I'm rambling, need to crash.
I love you.
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