December 10, 2003
I type with tears rolling down my red puffy pretty little cheeks. It’s nice for a moment, to have emotion that is not founded on "imbalance." This morning, although hectic and begrudged by the unfairness of my own situations, I was happy to hear your news. I’ve watched you, and listened to you, and read you … and to see God lay out your dreams before you so perfectly is quiet honestly the most hopeful thing I have ever bared witness to. Apparently, dreams really do come true, Mr. Big Shot Reporter Man. ;) There is no doubt in my mind that you are taking the most grand step yet into your success. I am proud of you, I am thrilled for you and I am definitly excited for you. Indiana and these smart guys that signed you have no idea how lucky they are about to become.
Forgive me, my life long friend, as I take a minute to bare the cross of my own selfish loss. I know it’s been long since Diane gave us repetitive refills in that old Corner Booth, but it darkens my spirit to know that booth (Be it Linda’s or Lake Breeze or my kitchen table) will be far from around the corner. With a frog in my throat, I say to you … You have always been a better friend to me, than I could ever be for you. I cherish that. You have allowed me to talk more than any woman should ever be allowed to talk. Somehow, you’ve never highlighted the ridiculous situations I’ve gotten myself into, and indulged me every time I set out to “find myself.” My favorite part of all of it has been that no matter how much the world looked down on me, there you were to open the curtain and shed the sun's early morning light onto the few positive attributes I’ve been blessed with.
I cannot help but think of all the classes skipped, all the napkin writings written, all the late night banter … the laughter, the tears, the debates, the dreaming, the designing, the decision making. You have been a constant crutch, one of the few people I could lean on, receive unconditional support from and regain strength because of. How I have gotten this lucky, I cannot begin to know. So please forgive me if I cry at our upcoming coffee and conversation, this pot seems to be bittersweet.
I want you to know that I will be taking better care of Suzi. I’ll stock her with girls nights on weekends that cannot give way to five hour drives. I will meet her to talk and hug her as often as I can. God knows I’ll probably need a hug or two in return.
Enough of the sap and sentiment. You’ll do fine. You’ll make friends. You’ll become big and famous and shit … and by that time you’ll probably know someone who’ll print my book, which will surely have your famous name in the dedication. So, don’t be scared, not even for a minute, because like my friend Mr. Sinatra sang, "Baby – the best is yet to come. "
- Written by a friend whom I truly miss chatting with over coffee, but who still even now captures the soul with her writings penned almost a decade ago. I publish this post at that 2 am magical hour, my friend, because that is when words are born.