loss: a friendship dies

loss: a friendship dies

R. was walking through the field to the residence entrance.
Pink shirt, red face. 
Helping a colleague/woman friend carry luggage.
Martha? Matilda? Martina . . . Navratilova-like hair.  
Margaret Hamilton on a good day.

After all that work, she decided to move to the inn. 

R. and I ate meals together. Friendship blossomed. 
Unceremonious reflections. Howls of laughter. Immediate lockstep.

We were in the same Oxford tutorial. 
After dinner coffee in the middle common room.
Jet-lagged. left early.
Big mistake.
Afterwards I was shunned by these ‘friends.
I never knew why.

No seat with them for me in the dining hall 
where Dr Seuss once ate.

Is this middle school?

I Grieved. Mourned. Lamented. Suffered. Pined.
Wept.

A friendship lost.

Never regained.

High Table at Lincoln College, SJ Godwin. 2007.

(I recently sent R. a copy of my book, for layered reasons. Rain Dodging‘s seed germinated in our Oxford tutorial.)