It's funny because, as I write this, I'm in Fort Collins with my family, visiting Meryl for the first time, but last January, that hadn't even been planned, and I was too busy being a hermit to really engage in the fact that one of my best friends, and best poet-friend, was moving away, fourteen hours away, from our humble, snowy state. Her husband, who is an incredibly talented tattoo artist, found a job out here, where he's incredibly happy, much to my Meryl-missing chagrin.
So Opal and I took her out for one last hurrah and had some fancy cake and felt sad and good, all at once.
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