I was checking through my list of contacts in my Hotmail account today, when I realized I still had Sarah's old e-mail address. Even though the last e-mail I'd tried to send her had bounced, apparently I just never got around to deleting it. Seeing that was like having the wind knocked out of me - it just punctuated the fact for me that I can't send her e-mail ever again. I can't call her, talk to her, laugh with her, sit at Sunset Grill like we'd planned and drink wine until we got silly. Or in our case, sillier. I wanted to believe she was happy and that was why I hadn't heard from her. I wanted to believe that she and Isaac Tigrett were off seeing the world, because that's what she deserved. She had loved him for years, and had finally gotten him back into her life, and they deserved to be happy. What better life for a hippie than to be living her days out with the founder of the Hard Rock, for crying out loud? But now I'll never know how all that worked out because I never got to ask. Life is short and bittersweet; love is eternal.

Comments

Anonymous said…
can you tell a little more about your friend and isaac.I thought he was a loner and had nothing to do with women
8:02 PM
Janna said…
Even if I knew any more, I'm not sure I'd divulge. I never got to meet him, all I know is what I've said thus far. Suffice it to say that Isaac was just like everyone else on this planet - if he was a loner it was because he was afraid of being hurt.
10:21 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Here I stand again, speaking to an empty room. My thoughts aren't worth the cyberspace they would take up if I cared to tweet or post to Facebook, but here I stand anyway. I had no idea how long it had been since my muse had forced me to write. I used to write almost daily, poetry mostly, when I was younger and believed that someone cared what I had to say. I wanted to be e.e. cummings or T.S. Eliot or anyone who seemed to be so comfortable in his own skin to pour out his emotions onto a blank page. It took me a few years to realize that the writers who filled my pantheon of literary deities were not that comfortable after all, but wrote because not writing was more painful than the spilling of emotion. So I think I will take up my keyboard once more, wade out into the battle, and write.
Read more
Got a late start today, so apparently Karma says I have to make up for it by being incredibly busy. I've been in the office for three hours, and I've spent at least one hour answering e-mail, one hour acting as counselor, and one hour on the phone. It's 2:00 and I'm finally getting my first cup of coffee for the day - what does that tell you. So far I've learned that most doctors are quacks - they all just guess at the problem, and sometimes they get lucky and guess right. I've learned that if you subscribe to Ifit.com, eventually you'll catch an ear-worm - I've listened to essentially the same music over and over for so many months now that I often catch myself humming it. I've learned that my sister is a nutcase and sends me way too much funny stuff. At least it's Friday.
Read more
On the ride into work this morning I let myself be lost in the foggy mist and enjoyed the last of the snow from this past weekend. It will no doubt be gone soon, soaked into the ground as if it never existed. Snow for me has always held a deeper meaning. I am happiest when it snows, yet I couldn't begin to explain why. So I looked out the window, imagining romantic characters striding across the pure white expanses, and just breathed in the beauty. Snow wraps around the seemingly dead landscape, and whispers promises of rebirth and renewal as it gently cradles the world in its soft, white blanket.
Read more