It's ironic how much I tell and give away
and how much I keep to myself.
For example: my best friend and I have been sisters
for nine years now, yet she rarely shows up in my photographs or direct
stories. Nonetheless, she is one of the most important parts of my life.
A mother of two, her oldest turns twenty tomorrow. As I have been telling others of late,
my soul sisters are, for the most part, mothers. There is nothing like the NOW that children force us into, and there is nothing like the feeling of, "I would die for you."
I WOULD DIE FOR YOU.
Meaning, I would fight to the death to protect and defend Y-O-U.
In a lot of ways, she taught me this.
I called her up, from the ICU, last year:
"The swelling has spread to my abdomen," I said,
"and I am scared." This was after a slithering serpent took a bite out of my calve.
She arrived, with instructions on how to holistically care for my injury.
Meanwhile, she was also present to my own mother's lack of presence,
to how my biological mother just wanted to gossip and play popular at her place
of employment. Tonight, I cried into her arms, "You are the only one who understands," I sobbed, under a full moon. Granted, an evening of shots of Patron and Margaritas makes one loose-lipped.
Still, she remains - a sister in arms. "It says a lot," she said, "that he came to your dance community."
"I know," I respond,"I love him." Together, we just laugh and blow kisses to the Pacific.
"You never know what the future will bring."
INDEED.
