it's short. live it.

I went to check my email this morning on the frustratingly slow but still existing internet connection at Franklin's house. It's only one bar of unprotected, unfirewalled, wireless service but it's been a godsend as I previously only was able to check my email about twice a month.

The first email in my inbox was a facebook group invitation: In Loving Memory of Sarah E Jennings.

I found out from facebook--a group invitation not even an email or wall post mind you--that my best friend died.

Four years ago this July I received a text message from Sarah saying "I have a brain tumor, will you come to the hospital?" She was doped out of her gourd and did not remember sending such a loving text. The coming months were surgeries, chemo, my college graduation, and a general reluctance and guilt to want to bust the hell out. She told me I had to go. Someone had to have the adventures for us, and she wasn't currently capable.

So I went. She beat cancer. Life was good.

Last year, cancer tried to come back. Chemo, she lost some hair, she beat cancer again. Bad ass. I was just off trying to have adventures, she was fighting wars right inside that teeny tiny little body. I told her I was joining Peace Corps and that she needed to be done with this cancer for good. Of course, she said. What if something happens? I thought/maybe said. But of course you have to go, she said, why on earth wouldn't you?

February. I receive a thanksgiving card from Sarah (the mail is slow here), she's great. Days later I receive an email. Cryptic at best, but only a small hiccup, not cancer, just a small hiccup. Eric and I are getting married, she says. Where are my nieces and nephews and when can I secretly feed them meat, I ask. No response.

Today I open my email. You have been invited to join the group In Loving Memory of Sarah E Jennings. Damn you, facebook.

Eric emails me (thankyou facebook), the last few months have been a battle but we decided not to focus on dying. She didn't tell me. She said she was fine. Of course she didn't tell me. Then who would be out having our adventures?

She said she was proud of me, he said he was proud of me. I'm just trying to have our adventures. Somebody has to do it, since she can't.