Missing

Now that my anger is dissipating, I realize how much I miss my zany friend. After all, she was the one who tempted me to crawl out of my well-worn traditional shell and experience life a little more fully.

I miss the mid-week lunches where we luxuriated in comfort food, drank wine, and always shared dessert.

I miss trips to funky places like Takoma Park, where we shopped for beads and just soaked up the hippy culture of the place.

I miss paddling around on the Tidal Basin in the little boats.

I miss looking at the river and occasionally experiencing a profound moment like a pillar of cloud.

I miss common-sense remedies for things that doctors were perplexed about.

I miss watching her take pictures of all the things I would have otherwise overlooked.

I miss learning about physics from someone who can’t even read a math formula, but understands exactly what it means anyway.

I miss having her tell me how to drive in a city I know like the back of my hand.

I even miss talking about all the things we wanted to do together, but never got around to.

Don’t get me wrong. I love all my other friends, who are more or less just like me. But everyone can profit from having a zany friend, who is unlike any other. Maybe it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience you just file away someday to tell your grandchildren about as you pull out a crystal still charged with Reiki.