I wish I had a totem to tell me whether things were real or not.
Friend James had a lovely birthday celebration yesterday,
starting at Eagle Rock Brewery,
with LauraJane’s amazing Lasagna of Amazingness,
a Parisian chocolate cake,
and rosemary rolls.
We moved on to Inception,
which, lemme tell you what,
is way more head-twisting on a stomach full of beer,
or in my case,
On our way to the theatre,
I noticed a woman in a head-covering.
Not a headkerchief.
Not a hat.
I thought, “Oh, maybe she’s Orthodox.”
Then I saw the other woman walking next to her,
pushing a stoller.
She was one of my dearest friends in college.
But no more.
A few years ago,
she told me that our lives were just moving in different directions.
And while that is true,
what I heard was that she didn’t value our friendship enough
to keep working at it together.
The Boyo recognized her as well.
“You don’t want to say ‘hi’, do you?”
It would be too weird.
Too horrid to make small talk
with a woman who once stayed up all night with me,
deep in discussions about everything under the sun,
who went to Israel with me,
who called me when she had her first miscarriage.
It would have been too hard.
How I wish that weren’t reality.
That I could look at a spinning top and know I was only dreaming,
that Truth was friendlier than Fiction,
just this once.