There’s a house nearby. Where my best friend used to live. She doesn’t live there anymore. And I can hardly believe it. I can hardly believe the years that have passed. The water under the bridge. And over the dam.
Walking by today. The dogs tried to turn up her sidewalk . No Daisy! No Peanut! Maggie doesn’t live there anymore. Maggie was my best friend’s dog.
When Henry was still little enough to hold my hand we would walk together to her house. On the way we would pass a cement family of ducks. “Duck!” Henry would stop and point proudly with such glee.
The ducks are gone now too.
And Henry is much, much taller.
And on his way to high school. Where has the time gone?
You know. You can’t hold on to time. In fact. You can’t really hold on to anything at all. Can you?
Have you tried maybe? And what of it?
There are so many levels of knowing that my best friend has moved on.
But somehow. Most of all. It’s that her old front door. Changed from red to yellow.