THE NOTE I NEVER SENT

June temperatures can be odd here. For the most part, it’s a very tolerable warm and muggy, but in the afternoon, the heat can settle in and feel suffocating. That is how it was at camp last June. The heat would really roll in around 2:00 and everyone would scatter to the pool, the river or a shady hammock. The last full day of camp, I found myself in the yoga shala, our central gathering place for camp activities, right at the hottest part of the afternoon. The yoga shala sits at the highest point at camp and the only place where I could get any reception. I paced the shala as I attempted to upload photos so I could run a slideshow for the evening. Then I started setting up the projector. As I dragged the projector out and started running cords, I was hit with a big dose of doubts. I was afraid that I was not technologically advanced enough to set up this projector.

Funny right? I run complicated microscopy systems and suddenly I was afraid of a simple projector.

There was an older gentleman at camp, a dear old friend of Kelly’s we called Granny. We hadn’t had any interactions all through camp. He seemed to be on the periphery, but in that moment while I was struggling to figure out the projector, he swooped in. He didn’t take over or anything like that. He just became my assistant, supporting me in whatever I needed. Then, when we had gotten everything set up and working, the power for the entire camp went out. We looked at each other and then walked down to the pool. I sat with my legs dangling in the pool and someone handed me a cold beer. There was a small group floating around on various floaties. Granny came and sat next to me and we proceeded to talk and talk and talk. We talked about education and liberal arts. We talked about government and science. It was the kind of conversation that I hadn’t had with anyone in a really long time. It was good and meaningful and important. Those handful of hours were like a drop of water, tiny but filled with a whole world.

The last morning of camp, I wrote a note on the back of a photo and went to put it in his mailbag only to discover that he’d left early that morning while everyone was still sleeping. I thought maybe I’d mail the photo to him, but I never got around to it. Last week, Kelly posted that Granny had passed away. Fast acting cancer. Fuck cancer. So now I have this note that I never sent, a note now for the dead. I’ll just add it to my list of growing questions that I have for Chris, Dad and J. It will probably rest on the altar at camp this year until I set it into one of the firepits. Leave it forever at camp.

This is such a shitty reminder to never hesitate.

Send the note.

Worth saying again: Fuck cancer.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

When Chris and I moved to Kansas City, Heather was one of the first people we met. Well, I met Heather first through work, but she pulled Chris and I into her orbit pretty quick. Over Christmas, we took the Cabbage with us to Terry’s house for a gathering and at one point the Cabbage asked me “How do you know these people?!?” I looked up at the scene taking place in front of me. Heather, JP and Terry were in the middle of a seriously ridiculous conversation. Billy was stealing cheese cubes off the table. Greg found his way into Heather and Terry’s conversation. Dean was snuggling with Melvin, Terry’s newest rescue pup. All around us, the room rippled with chatter, love and laughter. “Heather introduced me to Terry and Greg. Terry introduced me to the rest of this gang. And all of these people are the very best people in Kansas City that you will ever know.” I replied to the Cabbage.

That is no lie.

Heather is the reason I know Terry and Greg and JP. Heather is the reason I have friends in Kansas City. You just reach a certain age where making new friends and keeping connected with new friendships is difficult, but that hasn’t been the case where Heather is concerned. Soon after we met, Heather took a new job that had her moving out to California. She was not here physically when Chris passed away, but she was with me virtually as I sat in the middle of our bed waiting for hospice to take Chris’s body away. She chatted me through the moment, reminding me that I was not as alone as it might seem. Over the years, there have been many many many texts and visits. Heather moved from California to Colorado to Wisconsin and Michael and I both have visited her in two of those locations. Crabinsgiving was a Heather production that brought Michael and I and Michelle (another beautiful human introduced to us by Heather) and new friends, Maria and Mateo and Heather to a cabin in the Point Reyes National Seashore. We ate lots of shellfish and laughed and laughed and laughed.

Heather is currently between gigs and is living temporarily in one of her rental properties here in Kansas City. She’s living in the best one because it is the house closest to ours and we can walk to each other’s house. We’ve been going back and forth between houses for weeks now. At least once a week, I am at Heather’s for pilates because she’s doing teacher training and I’m her guinea pig. My back went sideways last week and I’ve been in pain ever since, but after class last night with Heather, I actually felt human again. Then she filled me with Indian style chickpeas and rice before sending me home with enough leftovers for lunch the next day.

I am not happy for the whys of Heather’s recent stint in the metro, but I am grateful for this time we are getting to have together. My plan is to soak it up until her next big move. Then I’ll live vicariously through her adventures in a new place until I can go visit. More than anything, I hope that I have been as supportive of her in this down time as she has always been of me. Michael and I have definitely filled her up with food and wine on many an evening. Food is our love language. On top of all of the support, I hope that she knows how grateful I am to have her around because her presence is good for me. She is unstructured where I am all structured and the combination of these two traits balances me.

Michael once said something to me about the people I know, something about their quirkiness. I replied “I collect interesting people.” It’s a nice collection to have.