Every day

When I wake up, it is the first thought that enters my mind. My friend. My loss. My sadness.

And at night, as I am drifting off again, it is the last thought of the day.

Day in and day out.

During the day, if you bump into me at the grocery store, or see me in a drumming class, or chat with me by phone, you may not recognize that something has changed. It's not the brave face, exactly. More like the organic part of me that feels joy and love and is happy to be living in such a beautiful world. That part of me is alive and well and real.

But in the silence of the morning, or the darkness of my room at night, my thoughts turn to Mali. My mind drifts to a dusty red courtyard. I imagine I am there and we are talking. Laughing. Playing. I go over and over the conversations. The moments that I thought were just the beginning turned out to be the end, as well. I hear your rhythms in my head, play them in my heart.

I am having a hard time with this.