friendship
I met Arthur six years ago, thanks to an online ad.
I looked out at the setting sun, and twisted the ring Pop Pop gave me, the one I always wear on my right hand.
Nobody knew much about Roger. His niece had dropped him off at the nursing home one day, saying there was a family emergency. Could they keep him overnight?
I talk with my friend Arthur twice a week, and each conversation starts the same way.
I'll admit it: I love a good to-do list. When I've got a lot on my plate, or even when I don't, there's something so satisfying about crossing things off as I go.
I saw Nebraska over the holidays with my boyfriend and his mom and my mom. It was a rather odd double date, come to think of it, but this isn't about that.
I didn't know what to expect from my long-distance friendship with Arthur - but it wasn't this.
Before my Pop Pop died, we had a conversation about our conversations.
Editor's Note: This is the last installment of a two-part series. Did you miss Part 1? Don't fret, you can view it here.
Editor's note: This is first in a two part series.