Just sitting on the couch. Reminiscing. Thinking about how we first met. Second grade. Miss Jenny Merritt’s class. We’ve been friends like fifty-something years now. Wow… I would have never imagined that our friendship would blossom into such a beautiful array of flowers. Bouquet. Yellow roses. Freesia. Sunflowers.  

Never will forget Miss Merritt writing on my report card. Lisa has a gift for writing. She allowed me to read my short stories to the class. Mama and Daddy filled the house with encyclopedias. Bought me books from Scholastic. Checked out books. And books. And more books. From the school library. The Book Mobile. And there you were. Egging me on. Telling me. You better write. Do you remember that writing paper we had at Linlee Elementary? A looong blue line on the top of the page. Followed by a series of blue dashes   a choppy line. Then another looong line after that. Red. That’s the paper we used to write cursive letters. Where I wrote my first stories. With them big ole yellow pencils. Had to grip them with our whole. Hand. LOL!  

We left elementary school. Headed to junior high. I took a class that examined different careers. Journalism stood out. I could use my pen to write. Report. Tell the truth. Inform. And there you were. Again. Egging me on. That’s when I knew. You were more than a friend. Like God destined us to meet. I fell so incredibly in love with you, Words. Lisa loves Words 4ever!!! #Infinity  

In high school, you made me take AP English classes. I was afraid. But you wouldn’t allow fear to control me. I joined the newspaper staff. Became the managing editor. We graduated. Matriculated (that was one of those AP words) to college. I majored in journalism. Because of our relationship, I got to meet so many people. Coretta Scott King. The kids with Down syndrome. Ruby Dee. The father who had to bury his son. Martin Luther King, III. The VP of Honduras. I used my Words. To tell stories. Report. Write. Inform.  

You have been the constant in my life. When someone asked me to write a play. You said. So. It doesn’t matter you haven’t written one before. I did it. I did it again. And again. And again. Now I have my own company. Write the Vision.  

Girl, so many things have tried to destroy our lifelong friendship. Like multiple injuries. Illnesses. Cancer     cholangiocarcinoma. I remember you visiting me. In the hospital. You brought my iPad. And there you were. Again. Egging me on. Telling me to write. And so I did. Wrote about cancer battering my body. Wrote about betrayal. Just writing. And writing. From my hospital bed. 

Discharged. Continued to write. Until I birthed a manuscript. Born a Warrior. Pages and pages. Filled with you, Words. About how I battle grief. Watched the last breath escape from my daddy. My mama. Survived six car accidents. None. Of. Them. My. Fault. Endured two TBIs. Fell into a manhole. Yeah. You read that write. Wright. I mean right. Those TBIs and chemo brain fog. Stay messing with my Words. My love. You told me to write. Said someone needs to read our Words. Words about how to survive when life drops you into an abyss. Of sorrow. Of pain. Of mental and physical. Sometimes spiritual. I write. Write about my trauma. Write about my faith. Ask God some hard questions. Transcribe those conversations. Write.  

Words, today I cried. Because I couldn’t think of how to spell a simple Word. Happens a lot [even with the TBIs, I know it’s spelled a lot. Not allot (insert eye roll emoji) like someone posted on Facebook]. I got frustrated. Angry. But there you were. Again. Egging me on. Telling me. It’s okay to ask for help. So, I asked Alexa. That heiffa spelled the Word so quickly. She knows my brain cannot process things that fast. I’ve told her 1,238 times. To spell S-L-O-W-L-Y. Geez.  

Just wanted to check in. Let you know I love and appreciate you. Words, you will forever be my girl. I am me because of you.  

Love Ya,
Lisa A. Brown  

P.S. I forgot to mention I’ve been diagnosed with a brain tumor. I’ll write about that later. Hugs and kisses.