Friend A: I love that you you threw a typewriter, a few boxes of books and a couple other things into the back of your car and drove across the country, leaving behind a painted red fridge in a turret across from a park and that in your new place we cooked on a hibachi on your back stoop and in your kitchen too, which always smelled like Joy dish detergent and in which kitchen you made possibly the world’s best meatloaf and that you are the person I know can call whenever my black forest cake falls over.
Friend B: A prism in my window catches the light in a way that it shines on your ‘star charting’ picture in my office. My painter’s-dropsheet-furniture-covers are because of you. No one makes better bruschetta.
Friend C: You may be the only person I know who hates bathtubs and you are definitely the only person I think of whenever I (still) stuff a sandwich into a container that was made for sour cream.
I love how you love playing the piano.
Friend D: Your laugh cracks me up and the way you ask servers in restos to guess which of us is older and how you tell them before they answer and the fact that you wear rubber gloves to do dishes and play catch with the dog while you’re on the phone.
Friend E: You are one great dame and each time I think of you I’m reminded that there is really no higher aspiration for a woman. Thanks to a purple gallinule in my kitchen I think of you often.
Friend F: I love that you are literal and that we share the beautiful DNA of speaking bluntly and that every walk we’ve ever taken stays with me, bits of each coming back as so much beach glass, hot city streets, gardens, and tea.
Friend G: Who else would I call to ask why a certain scarf purchased in Halifax makes me so happy and who else would without hesitation give me the perfect answer. I picture you paddling the Mackenzie River.
Friend H: I love the story of why you paint butterflies.
♥
And to friends a million miles away and those much much closer, some I’ve known forever, others I hardly know but the knowing feels like so much more. To book friends and food friends, to sharing the street friends, to friends who are family and family who are friends. To friends I’ve never met but which lack of meeting means almost nothing where our friendship is concerned.
To all of you, thank you… for being a friend.
kitchen gallinule
Matilda Magtree 
I would really like to see your painter’s dropsheet furniture covers please. Chris used to have a painting business and I was actually her employee in said painting business for a couple of years until she fired me (according to me) or I quit (according to her) and in that time I managed to fall hopelessly in love with dropsheets and their myriad possibilities. I imagined making furniture covers with them but so far haven’t. May I see yours?
Great story about quitting/firing. Was this how you met? (I’ll send you a pic of the covers. Very basic; I do not do fussy.)
Wonderful, thank you! No, we were a few years into our relationship when I started painting for her. We met at a women’s coffeehouse named Hot Flashes. I was newly out and she was new in town.
haha! Love the name of the coffee shop. And the rest is history. Kismet.
Thank you my dear, DEAR friend. I long for the days in which macha latte will finally flow freely again. PS: I think I recognize myself in that list (I won’t tell which letter I think I am, though). Much love as always, dearest Matilda.
You are most certainly among that wonderful motley crew. xo
I’ve never met you, Carin, but I once made covers for the foam slabs on the cedar pew-like couch in our living room and what did I use? Yes, of course. The best heavy cotton-y, canvas-y twill imaginable. I stenciled lizards on them like the ones I saw on caves once used by early Pueblo people in the 4 Corners and they lasted and lasted and lasted. Until I got sick of them.
I agree, that fabric is fabulous. I love the casual look of it. For now. So easy to throw in the wash, no need to be manic about ironing, etc. I suspect I, too, will tire of them before they ever wear out. I recently sploshed paint on one… but even that doesn’t seem to detract, ha!
This so brings me back to when we were young fearless and carefree. Thank you my dear friend for the past and future memories to come.
Young and fearless and carefree. We’re still at least two out of three. (:
And thank you, too, my longest friend… my eyes water at the memories. (Wasn’t there spaghetti on that turret ceiling when you moved in??)
Thank you for a beautiful, intriguing post. I want to meet all these remarkable people. Stay well, hope to see you sooner rather than later.
It was interesting to consider different relationships, the different histories, different ‘get togethers’, different bonds…
what a delightful post to “happen upon” — thanks friend.
Thank YOU, Diane.
What an interesting gang of friends you have. Wouldn’t it be a lonely world without these dear hearts who see and appreciate us for who we are? I certainly appreciate you! I believe I recognize myself here and thank you, my friend.
You are there. xo