We All Want Impossible Things

by Catherine Newman

It’s the anticipation I can’t handle. Loss lurks around every corner, and how do we prepare?

If there’s a metaphor for our friendship, it might be this. The blind faith. The absolute dependability. The love like a compass, its north always true.

But, then, people must be spared. That is the whole premise of this life, of this time we have with each other.

“Life is messy. I certainly don’t expect tidiness from yours or anybody else’s.”