"I just want..."

Last year I turned 50, and Brad had a party here for me. If you have never been to our home, you need to know our downstairs is pretty much all one room--fairly good sized--with a living room area, kitchen and two dining areas.

The room was full and loud, and so when my friend Vicki came, I sat down with her at the dining room table.  There was noise all around us, people laughing, talking over each other, and cheering for the Bears, but Vicki was quiet.  I caught her staring at me, and I said, "Is there something you want to say to me?"

She said, very quietly, earnestly, and with effort, "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."  I replied with a thank you, but I wanted to cry because I knew, by this birthday, today, she wouldn't be here.  I decided to wrap those words so tight to my heart, to concentrate on her voice sharing them, that I would never forget our brief but so important friendship.

It was the last time I saw her, she died two weeks later.  And as I type this, I cry like I couldn't that moment, but I smile thinking of her gift to me that day...