She’s an old friend,
just a co-worker now—an acquaintance
We smile when we pass in the hall
We share complaints about classes, victories with kids
Lately, she’s lost her smile
Her usual elegance fades
Her eyes, downcast as she walks, miss my smiled greetings
Someone whispers a rumor
asks what I know—me, the ostrich with her head in the sand
I look around
Suddenly I see her loss
realize her shock and grief
Stunned, I see them together—
as she must see them, too
He sniffs around the other woman like she’s a bitch in heat
They drive up in the same car
step out for lunch
stand together in the hallway
flirtatiously laughing
body language that screams—Couple
What words can I offer?
advice, as they say, is cheap
How do I let her know I care
without letting her painfully realize—
I know
(just like everyone else)
I can talk to her, try to listen, try to be around just a little more
Her other friends and I can form a safety net
but we can’t protect her from anger, loss, grief
We see it in her eyes
in the way she moves now
I remember another time when she had no net
her loss almost killed her
So, I’ll stand guard
Copyright 1999 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
