Prayers & Wishes
When I was 18 years old, attending a Jr. College on the Central Coast of California, I met a woman in my philosophy class—she had the most wonderful smile, an infectious giggle, and the best sense of humor and view of the world. To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever met another true optimist like she was.
During spring break, we drove to Portland together so she could visit a friend at Reed College. Every day when I drive home, as I pass the intersection of Powell and 39th Avenue, I remember going to that Safeway with her during that week. That was our bonding trip—the one where we drove and talked, talked and drove, spent a whole week together, and became (I thought) inseparable friends.
Then our lives digressed. She moved back to the Sacramento area, I moved to the San Francisco area. We finished our respective degrees, but stayed in touch periodically. When she got married (in North Lake Tahoe), I was lucky enough to make her wedding dress. She looked like an angel princess. So beautiful, with a smile to light up the whole night.
(Aside: I wondered how long the marriage would last. Her man was nice, but I didn’t see the fit. He was too uptight for all her giggles.)
Not long after the wedding, I learned that she had leukemia. I saw her once during that illness—she left her hat and gloves at my house on accident. Then we lost touch. Her life was busy, trying to heal, and mine was busy, too.
I heard that she survived the leukemia. Thank God. I still have her hat and gloves. I keep moving them with me from house to house, hoping I can find her again some day.
I think if her every day. Every day. I miss her. I Googled her name this morning and found reference to her on a blog. A relatively recent reference, too. One from November of 2006. It has to be her—the writer describes her as a single mom, talks about her smile and zest for life. Her smile… No kidding… that’s what convinced me it was her.
Single mom? Not surprised she’s single, but how did I miss my girl having a baby? I wish I could turn back the clock and be part of that. Then again, she’s never met my daughter either.
But the writer also said she has cancer again.
The blog where I found her has quite a number of members and I can’t figure out how to contact any of them, so I left a comment on the most recent post asking that author would have the other author, the one who wrote of my friend, contact me.
I hope he does. And more than that, I hope he can connect me with my friend. Before it’s too late.
During spring break, we drove to Portland together so she could visit a friend at Reed College. Every day when I drive home, as I pass the intersection of Powell and 39th Avenue, I remember going to that Safeway with her during that week. That was our bonding trip—the one where we drove and talked, talked and drove, spent a whole week together, and became (I thought) inseparable friends.
Then our lives digressed. She moved back to the Sacramento area, I moved to the San Francisco area. We finished our respective degrees, but stayed in touch periodically. When she got married (in North Lake Tahoe), I was lucky enough to make her wedding dress. She looked like an angel princess. So beautiful, with a smile to light up the whole night.
(Aside: I wondered how long the marriage would last. Her man was nice, but I didn’t see the fit. He was too uptight for all her giggles.)
Not long after the wedding, I learned that she had leukemia. I saw her once during that illness—she left her hat and gloves at my house on accident. Then we lost touch. Her life was busy, trying to heal, and mine was busy, too.
I heard that she survived the leukemia. Thank God. I still have her hat and gloves. I keep moving them with me from house to house, hoping I can find her again some day.
I think if her every day. Every day. I miss her. I Googled her name this morning and found reference to her on a blog. A relatively recent reference, too. One from November of 2006. It has to be her—the writer describes her as a single mom, talks about her smile and zest for life. Her smile… No kidding… that’s what convinced me it was her.
Single mom? Not surprised she’s single, but how did I miss my girl having a baby? I wish I could turn back the clock and be part of that. Then again, she’s never met my daughter either.
But the writer also said she has cancer again.
The blog where I found her has quite a number of members and I can’t figure out how to contact any of them, so I left a comment on the most recent post asking that author would have the other author, the one who wrote of my friend, contact me.
I hope he does. And more than that, I hope he can connect me with my friend. Before it’s too late.
posted by Aimee at
8:45 AM
|
<< Home