Mabel turned to begin her solitary walk home. Somebody in the darkness under a tree caught her eye. Another little girl was standing there, all by herself.
We had been friends for over twenty-five years. More than a quarter of a century. I don’t know why I feel the need to emphasise the length of time we’d known each other, as if the more time invested the deeper the friendship. There is perhaps a strong correlation but no causation between length of knowing and love.
Sara Brunsvold is establishing herself as a skilled storyteller in her debut novel. Her book pays tribute to an underappreciated group of people who altered the cultural course of America during the difficult post-Vietnam War-era while also being a call-to-arms for Christians; reminding Christians there are opportunities to share God’s love through every moment and every meeting.
“I love you and I always will.”
Last words spoken between dearest of friends
parting ways unknown.
Hope lingered therein,
that one day no more need for “always” would come
– only the existence of that fact would overtake
by revisited presence and love.
Schizophrenia was not your end, though the incidents leading to your diagnosis did feel like it. Schizophrenia did not remove you from existence, though you were never recognizable as the sunny, bubbly, quirky girl we used to know after that diagnosis...