I've been sick over the last couple of days.
It has limited my encountering strangers whose
spirt, smile, action, kindness or quirk make me happy.
Pouty, sneezy, and hacking, I spent some time this weekend going
through boxes of old photographs and keepsakes.
When my sister Petra died, on a Tuesday night in March of 1997,
I brought home her address book.
Because who she was, and how she lived, she had many friends.
Most of them I knew, many I did not.
I spent the first couple of weeks after her death
writing to each of her friends.
I thanked them for being with her during her life,
and implored them to not forget her in death.
I found this letter.
I love that Natalie took the time to write me back.
I love that she loved Petra.
But perhaps most of all,
I love that she wondered if I had "a shirt or something of hers"
that I could give up.
I hope I sent Natalie a shirt. Or a glove.
And I hope that she still has Petra's letters, the mix tape
that she hates, and whatever else she can hold
onto to from a life gone too soon.
That would make me happy.