I met you in training class for our brand new jobs as Social Security Claims Representatives, and we have been friends ever since. We cross country skied through the cold white wonderlands of northern Michigan, sipping flasks of ginger brandy or peppermint schnapps even though the "experts" said we should not drink and ski -- but we were young and invincible. We tried on hats -- funky, yellow crocheted top hats years ago, turn-of-the-century bonnets last year in Greenfield Village. You taught me how to grow tomatoes, how to roast red peppers, and how to throw cheerios on the floor to keep dogs busy while the humans got out of the house. You impressed me with your painting, your ceramics, and all that artistic talent that you seemed amazed to discover in yourself, but that I always knew was there. Time was meaningless between us -- no matter how much of it had passed between our visits -- and, at times, it was way too much-- we picked up where we left off as if our last talk had been just yesterday.
I will always miss you and always love you.
Royslot, Sweetie, Royslot.
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