Julia. When the name rattles around my head these days it’s either as I list regrets or am trying to write her song.

Julia taught me piano until I quit on her (big regret), guitar until I quit on her (really big regret), tennis until my brothers and my schedules wouldn’t allow it any more (not that big of a regret, other than, remember when summers were times to do not much of anything, except maybe read 30 books or spend a whole afternoon fruitlessly trying to hook a rainbow trout?)

Julia. She posessed a golden voice and one of my favorite smiles to recall, without self consciousness or fear. An opening to a beautiful soul. When my mom told me she was dying I didn’t believe it. I didn’t even believe it the last time I saw her, when her hair was gone and her head hidden by an appropriately tasteful silk scarf. When I hugged her and felt how skinny she felt. I guess I’m in disbelief even now, 10 long years after she’s gone.

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