12 days of heather, day 6

i wrote this series remembering my best friend who was making pastries at windows on the world when she was senselessly killed by strangers with hate in their hearts. it’s been 18 years since i’ve seen her face, put my arms around her, eaten a meal she’s made. i wrote this to feel connected to her. i share it so that you might too.

day six
when heather was at the culinary institute of america in poughkeepsie, andrew and i were in the city. she got one day off a week--sunday. god forbid, heather should take an actual day of rest. nope. instead, off she went on the bus down to us for 12 hours of mischief: lots of food, lots of drink, amateurish games of pool in a tribeca bar, that hilarious phone call to matthew from a phone booth, radio city music hall, and of course, this photo taken by a stranger on our train uptown to grand central or penn. there we were, rosy with drink next to this sleepy homeless guy on our way to the station to pour heather onto a bus back to cia at the last possible minute because we didn't want to let her go.