I made your coffee when I was a teenaged barrista, I waited
on you in my twenties at the four-star café where I used to work. Ran into you at the market yesterday, finally
learned your name.

this is part of x365

Oh you and your completely cryptic handwriting.  I practiced and practiced until I could write like that too, until I could read your notes.  But I could still never figure out whether or not you liked me. 

(back after a SHAMEFUL hiatus)

The one photo I have of you is from seventh grade. Standing by your locker. Smiling. Funny glasses. Years later I drove you to work early one
morning. I can still see that sunrise,
hear the radio.

visit x365!

My good friend the actor, who waited tables with me. Had a small part in a film where he got to
serve Robert De Niro a cup of coffee. Robert fuckin De Niro, Jen! He said, Wow, so cool.

Won’t you join x365?

I ordered my latte (soy milk) from you and couldn’t remember
if I should ask for large or double or what. So, I just held up my hands to show BIG. We both cracked up. Love. You.

I’m participating in x365 — and so should you

You said “His eardrum’s red from crying so much,” and then proceeded to tell me all the ways that I’d spoiled my eighteen month old.  Your back to me, I flipped you the bird.  You saw.  HA

I’m participating in x365 (but in a half-assed way)

You always called me Tilly Lipshitz (I have no idea why) and you were an architect.  There’s a restaurant I drive by all the time that you designed, but it’s changed names and themes dozens of times. 

This is part of x365

you wrote the best stories in our short fiction writing class.  All of them tense, set in cramped apartments complicated by drugs, bikers, conflicts and redemption.  They were good because you’d lived them.  Not fiction at all. 

this is a part of x365

In second grade you sponsored me for my school’s reading fundraiser.  I think you signed on for a dollar a book.  I read stacks of them but when I went collecting, you’d moved away.  How could you?

go and check out x365

I babysat your kids, maybe only once.  You were so kind.  Authentically kind, not just because you’re supposed to be.  My mom said that yesterday your entire family got up and sang for you at your funeral. 

I’m participating in x365