For Brenda & Michael.

She realized that she was definitely the worst person to ever attempt to complete a crossword puzzle. But that wasn’t her huge epiphany of the day. For she had always known she was terrible at crossword puzzles, and therefore hardly attempted them. The huge epiphany had something to do with friendship and friends’ ability to get you through anything.
She had just spent a long night/day (about fourteen hours beginning at around 5AM but who was really keeping track?) in the emergency room with a thin blue curtain as the only divider between another patient and the friend she was with. The other patient’s case was much more severe and the news his family received was quite awful to say the least. The entire neurology and cardiology department made their rounds to deliver their assessments to his family; it was that bad. Michael (she inevitably came to know the names of her temporary neighbors after hours of eavesdropping) had been diagnosed with prostate cancer a few years ago. Earlier that day, after attending his monthly check-up at his oncologist’s office, Michael had suffered a massive stroke. The worst news was that neither the neurologists, cardiologists, or oncologists believed he’d make it for any significant period of time, nor did he have a chance of even waking up from his present state. His brother and his wife, Brenda, were with him through the night and first thing in the morning, a friend of Michael and Brenda’s came to the hospital. She took care of everything she could. Including, but absolutely not limited to, arranging rides for out-of-state and out-of-country family from the airport, all the meals for the day, and calling her personal travel agent to confirm arrangements for the family. She did everything she possibly could to make sure Brenda and Michael’s brother could focus on Michael.
That’s exactly what friends do. If nothing else they’ll just be there for you. And a lot of the time, that is so much more than we could ever hope for.

When Brenda and Michael’s friend tried to lighten the mood saying, “Well at the very least you know you two had a good run.” Brenda replied without any hesitation, “No, we had a great run.” ‘Now that,’ she thought to herself, ‘is love.’

To write.

She watched the sunset and wanted to cry. A father flies a kite with his son, lovers young and old meet and hide amongst the hanging branches and thick brush, the mist or fog or low flying clouds created an effect on the Malibu hills that made it look so picturesque or she would even say ethereal, if she was into that sort of thing. The whole scene was something seen only in romantic comedies. And then there was the ocean. Oh she would be so happy and content with her life if she could just sit for the rest of her life and stare at the ocean. To sit and contemplate the vast power of it, or the way the water brings smiles to children and adults alike in its way of tickling one’s feet or surprising one with its temperature. Or the way the sunlight reflected off the water, almost making one believe that there were two suns setting coming to meet each other at the horizon.
But contemplating simple beauties of the world does not issue a paycheck. Nor does it provide a socially acceptable education. Two things that were of constant concern for her. So she wrote. About love and the question of its existence, loss and heartache of which seemed to have a constant place in her life, confusion which came as a terrible by-product of youth slowly dissipating and transforming into adulthood, and friendship the only thing that seemed to make sense to her most of the time. She wrote to remember and in some ways to forget, but mostly to try and accept and understand why she was dealt the hand she held, and tried to figure out the rules of the game. ‘Everything’s so difficult,’ she often thought about it all, almost always followed with thoughts of defeat and failure. But as much as she, and she was sure everyone else had to, feel this way at one point or another, she couldn’t quit. It didn’t matter how bad she wanted to, she refused. Re-strategize was what she had to do, as difficult and unfeasible as it seemed. Because while there is so much pain and desperation and suffering in the world, there is also much beauty. And as terrible as days and nights and months and years can become, the sun always rises with the hope of something better. There are good days. Though there seem to be very few in comparison with the bad, they do exist. So with this thought, she rose from her perfect spot with the perfect view. She went on to once again attempt to accept that though she couldn’t just sit at her spot to watch and appreciate the beauty and grace and power of such things as the ocean forever, she could at least pause and visit. And maybe even once in a while, write.