Grannies Playing Craps

I was looking for colored index cards.  I decided it would be easier for my multiple cat-sitters if I made up a couple of signs to leave on the counter.  One would say Cassie is inside, another would say Cassie is outside and another would say I don't know where the hell the cat is.  Each outgoing sitter would just have to leave the appropriate card on the counter for the incoming sitter.  Good plan, huh?

So I was looking for colored index cards on which to write my signs.  In colored markers and decorative script.  Protected in plastic sleeves.  Because that's who I am.  I could not find the index cards, though.  Instead, I found a box with an assortment of handwritten letters that I saw fit to save for eternity.  And there went my afternoon.

Most of the letters were from my oldest daughter, written during those angst-filled teenage years when every day presented some kind of drama that needed to be written down.  My gift to her when I visit her next week will be this collection of letters.  If she ever writes a novel with a teenage protagonist, she can use these letters to get the voice right.  It's that voice that can rip the heart out of a mother.

But among the letters was one from early 1968.  It was from one of my best friends, written during the winter of our senior year of high school.  She was thanking me for a painting I'd given her for her birthday, but she was also thanking me for our friendship.

Here's a portion of it:

And it was a relatively happy life.  With some big doses of sad thrown in.  Like everybody else's, more or less.

But here's what I am in love with today.  She and I are still friends, still pouring our hearts out to one another.  Maybe Facebook messages have replaced the handwritten letters, but the outpourings are real, no matter the delivery system.  Forty-seven years since this letter was written, we are old enough to be grannies playing craps, although neither of us is a grandmother.  But craps?  We've been rolling the dice for decades, winning some and losing some.  I'm placing my bets that this friendship has a few good years left.

Love you Kathie!