I know it’s not June first right now, but it was on Sunday and it will always be the anniversary of the death of my friend Sara. I’ve come a long way since she died. If I had a blog last June, it would’ve been all crumpled faces and depressing quotes interspersed with broken posts questioning God. A year has passed and I am struck that I am still so raw. Some times I feel very strong, like she is watching me decide who I want to be and nodding along with me, like she is next to me and visiting me in my dreams and whispering in my ear. And other times I can’t find her anywhere and I am cold and broken. Other times I just cry and whisper teary memories because it’s all I have left.

This June first I was in a boat on the Everglades, surrounded by good friends and so much beauty and watched this wicked storm close in on us. I spent a long time sitting on the front of boat, legs stretched out, leaning on the low railing, nothing in my vision but mangroves and clouds and salty smooth water. It felt like flying and I thought about how much Sara would love it, about how many experiences she will never have.

I was walking home from work today, disappointed and frustrated and tired and sad, thinking too much and trying to will my shoulders to relax. The rain came hard and quick and I fumbled my ipod into my purse so it wouldn’t drown. The shuffle pulled this song, a song that has languished unheard for years and I stood on the corner of Mass Ave, not trying to stop the streams that dug a path from my hands to the hem of my skirt to the tops of my feet, remembering the first time. I was sixteen and a boy told me it was one of his favorites because it’s so sad, but so hopeful, you know?

Yeah, I know.

• June 3rd, 2008
• friends, landscape, loss, musings, with music
• 6 comments
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