letter to a lost friend.

i woke up thinking of you this morning. i hadn't thought of you in quite some time. but this morning, your face was in my head. your voice, your laugh. and that place we used go to drink way too much coffee. i can't remember its name, but i remember where we would always sit.

i wondered if you know that i am happy now. really happy. i wondered if you would want to know that i've finally found a home. that when i woke up thinking of you, i was laying in the most comfortable bed. and that i'd been sleeping in a house with arched doorways and built-ins and lots of character and original walls sconces from the 1920s.

and then i remember that there was a closure email you promised you'd write. maybe that's why i still think of you. because there was no closure. and so i think about how i was there when she was born. and how i know all of your junk - all of it. and i wonder if you are okay. like beyond the perfect smile and makeup and clean house. are you okay? deeply okay?

because i finally am.

i was sick this week. really sick. fever through the night, stiff neck sick. and for a moment, just a moment, i got all hypochondriac on myself and thought i might have miningitis. and for a brief second, i wondered if you would want to be called if i was deathly ill.

and honestly, i don't know the answer.