I finished Brad Listi's book last night. I was thinking all day about writing a letter to a friend; I wanted to set some things straight. I sat down outside to finally finish the last few pages of this great book I'd been reading while my daughter and her friend hit tennis balls off a T into a big net that our neighbor had. It was dusk.
I had a beer. The last few pages turned out to be a letter. A letter to the parents of an ex-girlfriend that had committed suicide. My best friend committed suicide. I found him on my couch sitting up-right as if he were watching TV. He was dead. I read the letter in the book. It was nice and I think parents would appreciate a letter like that. I decided not to write to my friend that I'd been thinking about though, because there really wasn't anything to set straight. We are like oil and water. We just don't mix. Do you have any friends you would like to love but you just keep getting rubbed the wrong way? I just want to wring her neck all the time. Yet I still love her.