Senior year, I’d sleep over at least once a week.
We’d listen to Santana and the Eagles,
Eat tortillas with avocado and salt,
Watch Poirot and Sherlock Holmes movies.
Your Dad would make us laugh.
We’d go to bed and pray
For our friends and our problems.
I loved it.
You created all the time: drawing, painting,
Pottery, poems. (Not knitting, though we tried.)
We built up a collection of inside jokes.
You married on our sixth anniversary.
You remember my birthday every year.
Whenever we talk, we connect.
How rich I am to have such a friend.
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