It was actually about the death of America

In late November of 2016

I woke up devastated by a dream

My heart hurt

In the bathroom, hours later

I cried

How long had I known him

Thirty, almost forty years?

We witnessed each others’ lives

In so many small glimpses.

I had come to count on listening to all his secrets

Telling him mine.

And then drifting away for a month or years.

In my dream, I knew I wouldn’t see him again.

I grieved hard for what I’d lost,

For what might have come

On a blistering day in June of 2022.

The women in attendance

We were still reeling from a new reality we should have seen coming.

Our male friends

nodded sympathetically

Embarrassed by their impotence.

We consoled ourselves with the love that comes

From being known as children.

And there he was, solid and real

After so many years,

Neither of us wanted to leave the other’s side

And I understood what I was grieving

That morning in November.

***

by Jenn Vetter