Oh, my friend

I originally published this with my friend's identity clear. I had to substitute the name when a family member changed their mind and asked me to remove it. I stand by what I wrote, though. It is honestly how I felt about my friend. I miss her so very much.

One of my oldest and dearest friends died in October. I just found out from her dad, who found traces of me in her things.

Knitting the Divine

I’m listening to Hrishikesh Hirway’s podcast Song Exploder. The song “Bike Dream” by Rostam is on; he dissects each part of the song as he writes it. It’s oddly moving. In it, Rostam describes an idyllic relationship; he doesn’t say so explicitly in the song, but he volunteers in this telling that he is gay.

I start thinking on sexuality, a familiar, intimate topic in any event, and one I revisit often. These days, it is closer to me than usual—since the stroke, and since menopause. I’m finally coming out of both of them, hampered in the first case with vertigo, and in the second with an aversion to sex. While I'm still dealing with the vertigo, I’m discovering my sexuality is reawakening post-menopause. And it’s a relief, this rediscovery of my body.

Why this body, though? Ah. Why.

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