Friday, March 09, 2007

For Sarah

Created from a prompt for a writing exercise.

I wish I were able to talk to you. Not through the computer, but face to face over coffee—you would drink tea.

I remember when I last saw you at Christmas, the marshmallow world a pristine white. Remember how we urged the new year to fly to us, as the scent of miso soup and green tea reminded us of what had happened the year before. One year before exactly, when you thought the student loan people were calling. They kept calling, so after we finished lunch, you answered.

I remember watching your face, listening as you tried to make everything better for Krista. She wanted you to, and that’s the kind of person you are beneath the piercing and dreadlocks. You were searching for the perfect words that didn’t exist. There were tears in your voice, as I ate the orange cube off its toothpick and waited for you.

That was the first time I felt so out of that element—unable to make everything instantly better for you, without you having to ask.

Then you emailed. You said you’d been sad—no, you said you’d decided your symptoms of major depression were more than you could handle on your own. So you were getting help.

I thought of you on my screensaver, as it rotated pictures from your visit last September, and in my mind you were smiling. Eating a treat from Little Tokyo. Pancake cakes, that looked they should have berries inside, but they had sweet beans. Cakes that smelled like festivals and Japan, so they mixed what should have been a happy time with my recalled depression.

I know you’ll get through it. You’ll cope. You’ll deal. You’ll prevail. But I still wish I was there, embraced by the aroma of coffee, telling you face to face.

2 comments:

Rachel said...

I like the picture of coffee and tea intermixing. They're so different from one another and still they belong together.

Sarah K. said...

I think my opinion of this piece is probably biased. Thank you :)

I was looking through the L.A. photos the other day too, and smiling.