While unpacking the last wave of boxes from my storage units, I found a letter from my friend, Marjorie. She printed it on thick card stock and brought it to my house when it was my turn to host our girlfriends’ group for dinner. At that point, Marjorie and I had been friends for 20 years.
Marjorie’s been there through the death of my first husband and my second. When she gave me this letter, 14 years ago, I’d been diagnosed with breast cancer the day before.