Things I've Found In Pockets

A few weeks ago, a woman I know died unexpectedly. She was a writer, singer and poet, and crashed a party at my house in December. We sang ‘bye, bye, miss American pie’ in a gazebo at the top of our lungs with a crazy bunch of tipsy guitarists, and had one of those noisy dancing kitchen conversations over a sink full of margarita glasses. She’d been through a rough time, and was so excited about her future. 2026 was going to be her year. Two weeks later, she had a stroke, and she died not long afterward. Her funeral is this week. We weren’t very close friends, but I really liked her. I was totally certain I’d be seeing more of this cool woman. I think her sudden death has shaken me out of my covid/menopause haze, and made me realise that I might not necessarily have all the time in the world. Menopause is weird, but observing myself as I go through the brain fog, anxiety and sweaty nights has been so interesting. Like auto-ethnography: I’m there with my field journal, nodding and jotti...