Earlier tonight, much like they've done on most other Wednesday nights since ALS bound my sweet mother to a wheelchair, three of her best friends journeyed to my parents' condo from the far side of town for a visit. They used to hike and jog and throw outrageous backyard dinner parties together, did the four of them, but now, because my mom can't do much else, they mostly just sit around my parents' dining room table keeping one another company. Sometimes they laugh, sometimes they cry, but always, without fail, they show my mom and dad a rare and dazzling and inexplicable kind of love that blurs the line between friends and family and makes me wonder how we got so damn lucky to know so many of these kinds of people.
"Some people care too much. I think it's called love."
A. A. Milne