Kit

 

It's 7 in the morning and I am looking out at the very calm ocean and remembering when my childhood friend Kit was here with her husband Tom a couple of summers ago. She had Parkinson's for twenty five years. The following Fall, Tom died. Kit died a few weeks ago.

Kit and I were born a day apart. Both in New York City. We sent each other felicitations every August. We first met when we were ten and lived a block apart. My first memory of her was walking down her street to our bus stop. We laughed a lot. When Kit shared her laugh with you it was something to savor. Hers and hers alone. Much like her smile. Even better. True that. She was always up for a funny exchange, a shared secret, a good time. I noticed and enjoyed her lovely shine early on. During our deep, sixty five year long friendship, she made me feel special because she was. 

During college, she visited me in Ohio. I felt assured our connection was to continue after our early days. After our tenth year reunion, she went back to Fire Island with me and our friends. Fifty plus years on, she and Tom spent days with me on this very same beach. A happening time was had by all. Once again, I was with Kit.  That's all it took. I found I wanted to still make her laugh. I did my best and she did. 

There is so much I could write about Kit but I know it wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't be complete. All of us fortunate enough to have her in our hearts know that encapsulating her essence is a fools task. As I listen to the Mama and Papas sing "Dedicated to the One I Love", I think of Kit. So many joyful things. Treasures I treasure. I loved that she called me Pablo. I love that she laughed from her belly. She was a gift to our world and my love and affection for her continues - big and vivid and just like her, wonderful. 

Always.