Lisa
I have been haunted by memories of her for 35 years. We met one day shortly after she showed up at grade school. She had moved with her mother from another house and school system. I was invisible. My family was very low income. My clothing was the clothing of a child who was an accident rather than welcomed and cherished. I sized her up there was a different look on her face. Something open about her eyes, her smile. Like me she wore tattered jeans, a short sleeved camp shirt with a long sleeve turtle neck underneath. I had no friends. Hope was birthed by her face. I thought perhaps I might have a chance to forge a friendship. I wore loneliness like a cloak to hide all my sensitivity .
I approached her, how vivid I remember her small lean arms trailing along the counter in our schoolroom. I offered my name. She turned and nearly knocked me over with kindness and a wide smile. I remember the utter shock of the way that kindness felt. A simple greeting can change the course of a life. I think I loved her from that moment on. I never understood what made her so open so gentle with me. She seemed interested in every creative thing I did. And I loved how her mind worked. She was quick witted, simple and beautiful. Everything Lisa touched became beautiful. She did not even fear my home....my home filled with violence and anger. Somehow when she came she caused us all to rally. She brought with her some kind of miracle. She was such a funny child. She was so tiny and flexible she could put her feet behind her head and scoot across the floor on her arms and hands like a crab....I remember even my father who lived in depression would laugh out loud and my mother adored her....when Lisa came she brought health....I loved her more than anyone I had ever met. She was the kind of friend that can only be called a divine appointment looking back years later. The kind of friend that brings sanity and safety to a life that held very little.
She always came to my house...I was never invited over to hers. That is just the way it was. It seemed normal to us. My heart would leap with joy when she would come. We would spend our time sharing ideas, dressing up and gathering tall grasses in black garbage bags in the back yard for the horse I was determined to get on hope alone. She didn't even question it....with her small perfect hands ,she just crammed those weeds into bags with me and believed my dream....
One day she came and told me that she was moving....she would be changing schools. I heard whispers her mother might be dealing with divorce. How little you know about what that means as a child. I could barely comprehend what she was saying....I thought surely she could be dropped off like always...she could write...Lisa got into her mothers car that afternoon....I watched as the only friend I ever knew as a child pull away. Even the spirit is awake at that age....something final in the parting.
I walked up to the unfinished bedroom and knelt down over the rafters....weeping , speaking to myself, "I can't lose you, I can't lose you."
I had glimpsed joy. Lisa was joy.
I never saw her again.
I have never lost the ache.
