Tucked in that sweet place

I walked around the lake this morning. As I think of her now, I write by candlelight . . . in her memory.

One year ago, those autumn walks are what got me through my best friend's death. Today, I made sure to let her daughter know that I was thinking of her on her mom's one-year death anniversary. I make sure to share a reflection or two in my monthly letters to her parents. And as I connect with new friends, I am sure to mention her name along with a fond flashback. 

I will look at old photos later and remember our adolescent moments of uproarious laughter, the ones that got us kicked out of Jersey City's Good Times arcade and Pizza Hut at Hudson Mall. The teendom kind that leaves you not embarrassed, but winsome. We didn't know it then, but those were the days . . . when the whole world was warm, and we were blessed and lucky. The loss of one of my dearest friends hurts the most, knowing that her story was not finished. 

Still, I celebrate your wonderfully creative life and most tender strength and know that your story continues through all those who experienced you. 

My dearest Ethel, may you be tucked forever in our hearts.