Tonight I found this photo hiding in a box of memories, one that contains relics of years gone. But I want to share it with you, my soul sister, for I have not told you in quite a while that I have long relished your gift to me.
We don't speak as often as we once did, but I think our paths intersect enough now to know that we still carry the connection that once wove our lives rather closely. I don't need to hear your voice each week to recognize that you are always there for me. You were my confidante, and I yours. Of course, my life has changed since those days, that span when I deeply needed you to help me find the way through sadness and change.
You held me as I cried, wondering if my life would ever materialize as I had envisioned.
You listened for hours and offered sage advice.
You nurtured me, my sister, through literature and music. (I still own the case of Ray Lynch cassette that I bought at the tchotchke shop in New Haven; I played it until it became a plastic carcass of wrinkled tape. Ray Lynch comforted me on bumpy roads, just as your calming and understanding voice did.)
You have walked on a path of fire, lighted by many sources, covered with many shards that would have fallen weaker women. But you have always held your own, carried your shoulders high. You are one of the reasons that I can paddle strongly along a swift current.
The ability to maneuver the current is what make us so sensible, so driven, so determined to find happiness, contentment, to find peace.
I found it here. And I've found it since. Even though my life is not perfect, I, like you, will keep paddling along as I continue my search.