This year S was my best friend. I’ve had many best friends in New York City and most of them are still good friends. But the “best” part–or whoever’s number gets written down in the emergency contact space–is about timing; whoever happens to be circling with you in the eddy of New York City. It’s important: to have someone in your circle.
But I remember when she was still a stranger to me. Just after I moved here I was wandering the city unhinged and she took me to a dimly lit bar and afterwards to a fluorescent-lit diner. At a plastic, stained tabletop I recounted a conversation with my new roommate about the beat poets that I was trying to be in those days and how my roommate said well, not everyone can be a visionary.
Across the table S shook her head, ate a fry, and said with heart: But everyone should at least try.