Our parents were friends, as kids, and we often played together. We were aware of each other growing up, and then our trajectories separated. I think I have actually seen Kim in-person once in the last 35 years.
Re-connecting with her through social media in the recent years, I have since learned a lot of things about her life that I did not know; some were things that happened when we were small. And even though she and I have never been "tight", I found myself feeling for her as one does for someone who has been a constant part of the tapestry of your consciousness for as long as you can remember.
This is for her, with love. ~ jdc
I smiled, replying, "I understand there are a lot of people on the ..."
I scrambled to follow her as she swiftly moved past the sign for Fernsbea Hollow, and scampered up the high stone steps, and navigated the archways with the agility of the experienced climber she was. Trying to keep up with her was a challenge, and my ascent was a bit more awkward. But I was eager to see what had Kim so excited.
"Do you see it?"
I peered into the sphere and saw vague shapes, a crowd of people, seemingly fair but their features indistinct to me.
Her smile had transformed from enthusiastic to contented.
We both smiled, as we each took a bite.
NOTE: The reference to "The Unweaver" is a reference to Cancer itself. Everyone I have written about in these stories, from my Grandfather, to my friend Warren, to Kim, has had a direct relationship with Cancer. Some, like Kim and Warren, have successfully battled, so far. And some, like my Grandfather, left us far too soon.
Images courtesy of Wildstar Beaumont