My best friend growing up Sarah was the best confident a girl could have, funny and kind

and supportive. We'd laze in the creeks by my house in the valley or play in the shaded creek

by her house in the hills or climb the oaks to pick mistletoe or talk for hours as we'd walk

my yellow lab dusty through the streets of Sonoma, California. Just two days ago, she called me and

said, I'm in town and I'm walking down Dusty's path and I thought I should call you because

I am on Dusty's path and it made me tear up. Here we are 46 now and still we hold each other

and are shared past so dearly. Today's poem is a tribute to those early kinships and how

it's not only the memories that are important but the fact that they are shared in the hearts of our

beloveds. Bonfire Brides by Felita Hicks. The embers of a thousand years uncovered by the hand

that fondled them when they were fire will stir and understand from Emily Dickinson's 1383.

Remember when we hurried ourselves into the evening's sacred blaze, our coal covered

bridal gowns drenched in the long silver of our mother's years. Our hearts ceasedlessly sucking

on their stars long dead. Our laughter pouring out of us like a sacrifice to age and weather.

If we had known what lay beyond the gates of our hooded child, would we have even left?

Would we have so happily run into the inflamed morning with our fists and query and hunger?

Should we have stayed? Sister, do you remember when we wanted God? We're all tendril, sweet cheeked

for heaven. Do you remember when we were sick with Bible verses and hymns? Our mouths

overcome with hallelujah. Our mouths slowly sown into the crooked neck of every sunset.

Do you remember the place where we laid down our child's shapes and grew out our hair?

Yours, an unrelenting wave slipped from the bed of your precious scalp down into the looped

bone of your back. Mine, a cacophony of glitter and grease leaping from the barrel of my hungry

scalp to arrive restlessly around the pillars of my ears. Do you remember the place where we

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