"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Monday, August 30, 2010


I have a friend whom I have known since she was a child; she is forty now and she is four, still a child and yet not a child. She speaks to me, tells me tales, loves to share time and space with me and I with her. She is beautiful, with dark hair and dark eyes, like her mother, and a big, big smile.  She likes hats; she likes to tease her father into laughter; she likes Mickey Mouse and anything that is John Deere green.  When she speaks I do not understand her words; she has her own language which is made of pieces of our own, spliced into patterns that are difficult for me to untangle. Her parents understand her speech completely, as parents do.
      There are many things she cannot understand and yet she understands many others. She understands emotions and the hearts and eyes of those she loves.  She can sit for hours, watching and listening to her surroundings and never speak a word, but she is listening; she knows, she is very aware.  She is the light that shines on her family, their reason for getting up in the morning; a special child who is both resilient and fragile at the same time. A child in the body of a woman who at times surprises me with her insights and wisdom. She is a strand of gold in the tapestry that is my life and I am blessed to have her as a friend..

1 comment:

b said...

Beautiful. One of your best.