First-Line Friday (returns)

As Celia riffled through the box of items her Great Aunt Merkindra had left her, she suddenly jerked her hand back in shock at what she'd just encountered.

Now your turn! E-mail us your story at gzorkme@gmail.com, and you may see it here on Tuesday!

A Slow Demise

“Heather C. Peyton, age 26, died on February 11, after a brave battle with leukemia.  She is survived by her parents, Ronald and Deborah Peyton, her sister Courtney, and her brother Jacob.  A loving daughter, and a friend to all who knew her, Heather will be sorely missed.”

Loss

This is Jack and Uncle Sarah's last outing together for the foreseeable future.  She's moving to Washington, DC, on Saturday, and I'm a-shambles just dealing with saying goodbye.  I'm so sad that I feel like someone has died.  I'll probably see her again in May and perhaps again around Christmas or Thanksgiving, but with her departure something almost tangible has gone out of my life.

  

Every weekend for the last year or so we have spent a few hours together here and there.  We could count on each other as dates to go see theatre productions or movies that no one else would want to see and to recommend books or magazines that no one else would want to read so that we could talk about them.  We watched the same worthless reality television together while we painted our nails and drank adult beverages.  We had the best fun playing grown-up together.

 

And she's my writing partner.  Years ago, when we were in college and then graduate school, we'd make odd runs for things late at night.  Once, in a pharmacy drive-thru line, I discovered that she would often make up stories about the people whose backs we had to stare at, and I demanded to hear some of them.  To say that she has a vibrant inner life is to shortchange what goes on in that head.  Not only is she easily the smartest person I know, but she is also the most imaginative, colorful, and whimsical.

 When we said goodbye tonight, I made it exactly halfway down the hall back to my apartment before the tears started to well up.  I tried to breathe them away as I started putting groceries away and finished getting Giant Toddler ready for bed.  Once life's little necessities were taken care of, I turned on the shower, sat down in it, and cried in the ugly, loud style.   

 

 

Now, I've finally worn myself out enough to be done with feelings for the night.  I'll make a stack of books to read and a list of goals as I resume writing this week.  Maybe I'll even make a vision board for Sarah and Stephanie's new ten-year plan.  Then, tomorrow we'll e-mail each other obsessively, just like always, and I'll try to find something to do with all my newly-freed weekends.