I Hate Saying Goodbye

Within 20 minutes of each other today, I found out my friend Darren is moving to New York in 3 weeks and that Aslan, one of the co-workers I actually liked at Frontiers, passed away over the weekend.

I could go on at length about both, of course. Darren, at least, I know I will see again--and I could not be happier for the career move he is making. I know the guts--and the intelligence--it takes.

Aslan, I never saw enough after I quit the magazine in 2005. The last time we spoke, I was standing at a car wash on 3rd Street. It was a warm, overcast day, and Aslan was talking about how she was getting ready to go back to work after being ill and in a convalescent home. We didn't dwell much on work, though.

Instead, we laughed.

I want to remember that right now, juggling all of these competing memories: On the phone, listening to the traffic, my fingers reaching out to touch bougainvillea blossoms spilling over a fence, Aslan's voice telling me about her crazy roommate in the convalescent home, and the hearty, infectious laugh coming through loud and clear.