About Those Giraffes . . .

Dear John,

 

I've had a wonderful evening. Tomorrow morning I have to turn in my vacation requests for the year. I'm planning to go to Kentucky to see friends, one of whom is Becky. So I called her tonight to ask when would be the best time for her schedule.

 

It was so good to talk to her. I remember those nights in the dorm when we'd turn off the lights and talk for another couple of hours. And this is truly a good friendship - we haven't seen each other for over twenty years, and we still talk just like that. We have even more in common now, since you and Kyle left and forgot to take us with you. I can't wait to talk to her face-to-face this summer.

 

One thing that came up was the giraffe thing. I remember how it started, when there were just three of us in our little widow group. I found a photo of three giraffes and said, "Look! It's us!" Then Sophie sent me a giraffe photo and told me that they're called twiggas in Australia. And I found the photo of the juvenile delinquent giraffes, and it went on from there. They became the symbol for our little group.

 

The rest of my friends don't know that. They just think that I like giraffes, and it's true that I do. But they mean much more that that. They have such soulful faces and expressive eyes. I have many photos of them that tell what widowhood is like. They are us. I don't even try to explain this to other people.

 

So here is another photo of the Widow Friends Forever - sad eyes, bleak landscape, but standing together, never alone. Let the other guys know that all of their twiggas are looking after each other. No matter what, we trudge along together. We love each other, look after each other, and are never alone.

 

And don't we all have long, sexy necks? Eat your heart out, Keira Knightley!

 

Trudging toward you,

Joan.