Only History

She is my friend and has been for decades,

We chose different roads to follow as our journey through the gift of life persevered.

I opted for marriage and motherhood and then, of course, accepted the responsibilities that came with the choices.

She preferred the quiet of solitude unblemished with the music of others. Her life was well ordered, elegant and if there were shadows of loneliness or regret, they were never visible.

We aged together separated only by distance, never by communication. We were both fascinated with the digital world making emails and contact a simple matter.

When the time seemed appropriate, I abandoned the home and lifestyle my family and I had shared for 57 years.

Despite her disapproval, she bade me goodbye with only smiles and a few well chosen words of sage advice.

I timidly suggested perhaps she, too, might soon consider relinquinshing the facade of independence we all cling to and seek another path.

That didn’t happen and this week with the reemergence of not only Covid, but blizzards, she was taken by EMS to a nearby hospital. Of course, she was alone and remains so now as prayers for her quick recovery are both whispered and murmured by all who crossed her path.

During January of the twenty second century, I was once again quarantined. I became anxious not only about the virus but equally fearful about the mandatory isolation.

I made bread, listened to Phil Coulter and meditated, but the days were long, and the shadows of fear became darker daily.

She and I are friends and have been for decades. We chose different roads to follow, and today I wonder if either one of us made the right choice.

Or perhaps if there ever was a choice or instead a light leading us in different directions

And we were both right.

Only history will decide.