Letter to Edie

Hi, Edie-

I haven't written since last spring, but I think of you a lot. I really, reeeeeaaaaaally need you right now. I could always count on you to listen to my shit. I never even had to ask - you knew when when there was something up with me, and you'd NAIL me! You never turned a hair, never judged. And you were capable of TOUGH LOVE! Diane has taken on the role of listener (poor Diane!). She is very nice though, and does not slap me up side the head nearly as much as you did.

Today, I was rock-bottom sad. (Day 4. I'm lovin' this hike. Are we there, yet? Are we there, yet? Are we there, yet? Tomorrow HAS to be better. That is the good thing about rock bottom.) Sadness is generally not permitted at school: my sanctuary of noise, need, chaos, laughter. I was standing at the copier this evening, getting ready for class when Mark bopped through the room. I was facing away from him but maybe something in the set of my shoulders stopped him. Yeah, I know - he has known me WAY too long, huh?

"SOOOOOOOO...... How's everything in Kate's world tonight?"
"Uh, OK. Good."

He came up to me and put his hand on the back of my neck.

"Oh, yeah? You don't feel quite right."

Touching me was the WRONG thing to do. To my horror, my throat closed and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Now, I have issues about crying. I desperately hate it and like to be all emotionally controlled. A couple of teachers who know me well tease me about how I NEVER cry, even when I ought to. I had to stand stock still for a long time before I was able to tell him, "I miss Edie."

He sighed a very long sigh. "Oh, Darlin', me too." We wrapped our arms around each other for a minute while the copier chugged through its job. He told me about how he struggles with things at home and how much he misses your no-nonsense attitude when dealing with your son Mike. I just stood very still and let his words and his pain wash over me.

You always said that Mark and I were two peas in a pod, as far as temperament goes. We both used to roll our eyes at your brassy assuredness, at your Absolute fucking Certainty; but we relied upon your rock-solid presence. You are very much missed.



Love,
Kate