2017-03-25 - 11:04 p.m.

the only living boy in new york

she and i met here, shortly after the word "blog" had been coined, but before it had entered into wide circulation. we maintained a correspondence throughout our adult lives, handwritten letters interspersed with sketches and snapshots and the occasional mix tape - later, music on cd. i no longer have these items; they were packed in a box for our last move, and that box was stolen by a former friend desperate for things to sell and support his addiction. it takes everything, even the littlest scraps.

lately, the conversations between us had turned domestic, trading housekeeping tips and ikea hacks. i am newly a mother, and we talked about the raw new world opened up by parenthood, how it is a grand adventure and nothing can prepare you for it. when she told me that she and her partner wanted to have a baby, i started working on a layette right away. it takes me so long to get anything done. i remember reading how romans identified the parcae, originally personifications of childbirth, with the three greek fates. now i have this little unfinished thing, all these threads clipped and dangling.

she and i met once, briefly, in raleigh. we had pie and sandwiches at side street cafe, a dream paused in time as downtown changes all around. when my baby was immunized and ready to be out in the world, i had hoped to support her foray into the gig economy by renting her spare room in nola. and of course she was always welcome to visit us here on the connecticut coast, where she will be sorely missed and fondly remembered.

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