Mar. 28, 2008 ~ Not quite a friend
She was not quite a friend, though we were friendly. We met online and learned we had much in common. Though she was living in California at the time, she had grown up in Texas. We had in fact attended the same high school. I did not know her at school, and did not remember her if we had met. But we had mutual friends from the old days, and there were lots of emails back and forth about Mandy and Bobby and the gang.
She was smart, funny and incredibly creative, but she had a dark side. I saw her turn on people with little or no provocation. I still remember her rage when she thought someone had insulted her kitten. She never, ever forgave the poor woman.
She had serious health problems and was often in pain. And she was lonely, no doubt. Her outbursts had a tendency to run people off. That said, she never said an unkind word to me. She was always gracious and charming, the perfect southern lady. There were occasional phone calls, letters, and the ever present emails. She made me laugh, and cry, and she always made me think.
We lost touch a while ago, when she moved back to Texas. She talked often of coming to visit me at the farm, but she never did. I thought of her sometimes and hoped she was well, and happy.
Recently I learned that one of our high school friends had died. I thought I might share the news with Vic. But I'd lost her last letter and wasn't sure of her current address, so I went looking online. Which is when I learned that Vic, too, had died.
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"I don't remember losing track of you
You were always dancing in and out of view
I must've thought you'd always be around
Always keeping things real by playing the clown
Now you're nowhere to be found."
From "For a Dancer," by Jackson Browne
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