Cindy

Today would have been Cindy's 77th birthday. When her PS# 86 class transferred to PS # 66 my school in 7th grade, she asked if I'd like to walk home with her the second day and come over. I was surprised.  She had many friends. And I was excited. She seemed like so much fun.   Her mother asked if I'd like to stay for dinner.  I did.  I stayed many nights until we went to college. I stayed on the American Plan.  Cindy’s mother was so warm and welcoming.  Cindy became my father's book buddy. He was a voracious reader, and she regularly borrowed and discussed books with him.

Cindy became My Buddy in the truest sense of the word. We frequently went to her mother's friend's pool.  In high school, she drove me to school most mornings. we'd shared secrets About Everything we didn't share with anyone else. In the mornings and at night on the phone. She gave me a surprise party for my 17th birthday. I hadn’t had a Sweet Sixteen. 

We moved to New York the same year.  Our friendship could not have gotten stronger or more real.  Like her mother, she was warm and welcoming.

In her 40s, Cindy got cancer.  She lived to age 73.

These 2 pictures were taken at a party before my wedding and at a bookstore launch for my last book than a month before she died.  Cindy bought 15 copies and gave them to her friends.

I think of her every day. I converse with her in every way. Her mother once whispered to me about her 5 children: “Don’t tell anyone, but Cindy’s my favorite.” Cindy’s my favorite, too. Happy Birthday Dear Friend.  I love you and miss you.