Â§hria's Spot

The present time has one advantage over every other; it is our own. -- Charles Caleb Colton

I am here now. Half an hour ago I was in my driveway shovelling. Now, I am here, alone. My driveway is nicely shoveled. My knives are sharp. I just have to wrap some gifts and stuff some stockings.

Michele wants desperately to believe all is in order before she departs this world but I can't lie to her. Never could but now, here, with her so frail, so hurt, so broken and so very sick -- here and now I cannot lie to her.

An hour and a half ago I was stuck in Michele's driveway. I left her side in a daze and drove right into the snowbank at the end of her driveway.

How could my beautiful, vibrant, sexy, vivacious and beloved friend have become so small? She is hollowed out and sunken in, but who she is still shines through vibrant and bright. I believe she will hang on for some time longer.

She gave me a lot of her jewelry. She had it set aside for me when I arrived. She couldn't lift the box because her right arm is broken and they can't cast it because its so full of bone cancer. I sat close and touched her as softly and as much as she could stand.

I started to tell her to keep the jewelry, that I would get it tomorrow or later or something, but I could see it was important to her. She was very happy when she saw how much I liked it.

Some of the items were things we had picked out together on one of our long-ago yard sailing adventures. All of the items were things that Michele knew, rightly so, that I would dearly love.

I love them because they are hers and something of her to hold on to and because they are a link between us... rings to bind us even beyond death. I know that I well never really lose her. Enough others have gone before for me to have learned that, although she won't be there for anymore late night phone calls or shopping trips, she will always be with me.

When I was seeing her there on the recliner she has spent the past month in and will be in until she dies, I also saw her standing on the sidewalk in front of a yard sale. Her legs were planted wide apart in her thigh-high four-inch-spike-heeled blue suede boots, tight black leather pants and soft, flouncy, black poet shirt. Her arms were crossed across her chest and her dark auburn curls kept blowing across her face as she huffed impatiently.

"Come on, Carol," she said. "The good stuff is over here in the garage."

"Forget that junk. What do you need another junky sofa for anyway?"

"To sit on," I said. "I don't have a sofa, remember?"

"Well don't even look at that one," she told me as she spun on her heel and (there are no words to describe Michele's walk... men have choked on their drinks in the bar when she walked by) Michele-walked toward the table in the garage and the sparkly bits arrayed upon it.

"What's wrong with classically tacky?" I pouted, dutifully falling in behind her and enjoying every minute of our exchange.

"Some day purple and pink paisley will be in style again, you know," I said.

"Purple and pink paisley was never in style, especially not for sitting on," she said. "Besides, you never know what they've been doing on that thing."

She was standing quietly in front of a folding card table loaded with what looked to me like a tangled mess of chains and pretty beads.

She reached in and pulled out the most beautiful necklace I had ever seen. Then she did it again. With the next pluck she came out with a lovely pair of ear rings then a ring, two bracelets and a pin.

Then she Michele-walked over to the dumpy woman hunched behind a cash box.

A short while later, we were walking to her mother's car with her loot and the poor woman behind the cash box was looking dazed.

"Isn't that great," Michele said. "This one is Victorian, looks like rhodonite, probably worth a few bucks. I paid $10.00 for everything."

"Remind me to never try and sell you anything," I said as we got in the car.

Tonight, I left her in a daze. My mind wants to stay behind in the sun. My heart is numb.

Although those long-ago days were anything but care-free, they were full of promise of plenty of time to come and to make things better.

My car apparently drove itself to Lyle's house because I don't remember much of the trip over there.

When I saw him last (dropping him at work on Thursday afternoon) he said he was going to come home with me and spend the night before Christmas with me. I was going to have someone to spend the night with and like the holiday better because I wouldn't wake up alone. Apparently he forgot.

I am here, now. Alone is okay and the driveway is done. I couldn't lie to Michele and say all is well in my life, but I could be truthful and say it's pretty darn close. Close enough for me and I can see there being enough time ahead for me to make it even better.

So I gently took the jewelry she offered and softly patted her hand. We cried together a little and I will be there again some time tomorrow. I will not be alone on Christmas day. I will not grieve for the friend I know will soon be gone. Instead, I will be glad for a chance to be with her.

But, here and now, I must wrap some gifts for my children coming home for a few hours in the morning.

Good night to all and to all a good night.