The keeper of my triumphs, near misses and failures is fading away. Time is no longer allowing the two of us to share forty-seven more years of friendship. Time is now dictating the days we have left to tell each other how important we are. To each other.
If I were the praying kind or believed lemony, cake frosting words, I’d hang on to the adage that everything does have a time and a season.
Reality? We all our going die. Sometime. Especially if we’ve lived, in numbered years, a very long time.
She has just always been there…and that’s the difficult part for me.
She has always been there. Here. For me. Always.
We share a lot of history…
She helped me bury my husband, and I was with her when she buried hers.
She told me once that she wanted to live no longer than ninety years.
She’ll be ninety-one in less than a month.
Only the history we share is fading. Not the spirit of our history.
She will always be here. With me and for me.