Dear A-M…

For the last week I’ve been hiding out at a friend’s home.  Some of it was due to not being able to travel and just needing a place to crash before making the journey back to Maryland, some was that I just didn’t feel a need to return period.  Work was accommodating enough, they just sent material to a different office and allowed me to retrieve the relevant stuff there.  So bravo to them!  But going home meant dealing with the fact that my friends had pretty much written me off.  There is a singular exception to that rule, but she doesn’t like to talk about the “negative” stuff in life.  Keep it light and let’s move along.  The world for me doesn’t work that way, and I have to go back Sunday to deal with something that went wrong with the house.  Can’t lay that at the feet of someone else, even if it is a minor issue that I could deal with from Massachusetts.

My first reaction to who I would want reading this was my former mother-in-law, maybe she might see that things weren’t solely her viewpoint.  That the world has many sides, some right and others wrong.  I don’t know which is which when dealing or talking about her, but I would like to think she could put down her blinders for a minute and actually listen, not just hear.

But I settled on someone a little different, and for the sake of having something to call her; let’s us the abbreviation A-M.  This allows her privacy that I know she would request even if she never sets eyes on any of this.

I met her a little over 11 years ago and it was during a time when she was working for me.  So the relationship was odd, her still in college and me finishing my doctorate.  Completely different fields of study, completely different types of personalities.  But it was fun to talk to her.  I’d get crazy works of literature she had composed about co-workers and their tie-in to romance novel level activities.  This would come complete with sketches to make the written word more fascinating.  She helped me by pointing out things I should be reading, things I should be noticing about the world that just weren’t part of my routine.

In return, I once smacked her on the back of the head while she was talking to her mother.  I also had a policy of “no sexual harassment policy if you are standing on the tile”.  Half the building had tile, you can imagine the odd looks.  This was all just fun, not once did I make a obscene joke to her!

Over the years, I stopped working there and made sure to keep in touch with her.  Email and text messages are a lovely thing between friends.  Dinner two or three times a year filled in the gaps.  I love this girl like a sister, she was the godmother of my daughter.  But when everything went south, so did our relationship.  Dipped into that well once too many times in an attempt to help Whitney through things.  I always asked her to help the other person, which she did.  What I needed was for her to help me, which I never asked directly for.  She gave a lot, it burned her out.

So now, I miss my friend.  I know she’s not ever going to talk to me again.  The situation with my health tells me that, if not now then it will not happen.  And it’s not as if I didn’t reach out in my own small way.  So I would want her to know about this blog.  Know about the things that have been happening, are continuing to happen so that she understands I don’t blame anyone.  [maybe the aforementioned mother-in-law could use a little finger pointing in her direction, but I don’t want that either.]  That way she could still be a part of things, even if she chooses to still away.  Her own reference to being a “Fly on the Wall”?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Singular Sensation.”

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