Resurface

Mixed in with the bills, the shopping circulars, the tempting credit card offers, the lovely "EOB" (explanation of benefits) forms from my insurance company that make my heart stop in a bad way every time I open one, was a letter from a former friend. Pretty stationery of the Thomas Kinkade variety, complete with crinkly vellum envelope. No return address, but I knew.

A nicely handwritten, carefully crafted letter apologizing for the loss of our girls after hearing about them from a mutual friend. An added apology for the ill timed baby announcement, received a month or so after the babies died. This is all well and good, yippee for her now that her conscience is cleared. Give her a pat on the head.

My daggers for her go way back, after she wrote me off for being honest with her, after she asked me to. Yet, more than a year later her only contact with me is a baby announcement. I can easily say that had we not lost our girls, I would have been happy for her but would still choose to not continue the friendship. She has always needed to be the center of attention and that announcement, however ill timed it was, sought to serve that purpose.