Twenty-six taps

Dear Friend,

First of all, how are you? It’s been many a moon since we chatted, or was it just yesterday? I knew you once, Friend. You had so many faces. You were a childhood pal, or teacher, prom date, auntie, teammate, classmate, sister, cousin, neighbor, colleague, acquaintance, and my most kindred spirit.

Thank you for reading my letter, Friend. You reminded me of something with not only your kind reply, but the effort it took to revisit your own pain for Matt and me. Your evergreen heart was able to convey the simplest lesson…

You said, “If you light a lamp for somebody, it will also brighten your path.” Yes you did! You said exactly that! You may have stolen this from the Buddha. But it’s okay, everybody steals from the Buddha. Oh Friend, but how true is this? Infertility, like so many other trials, is a lonely road. But what a road to share together. And share we should! I’ll pack the snacks, you make the mixed tape.

Anyway, Friend. I meant to write to you long ago, to tell you all about this, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You understand, don’t you, Friend? Of course you do. You’ve been there in one way or another, too. Pain is pain, and loss is loss, and suffering is suffering. And the first rule of these things is that there are no rules. You get there when you get there. That’s why you pack snacks.

It is a relief to be able to write my soul onto a page at long last, and know that you’re careful and tender with it. I will try to write you more often and will welcome anything you write to me.

You are a good friend. You’ve always been a good friend. Baby or no baby, there is no greater treasure.

With love and deepest thanks,

Savannah