The other day I heard a knock on my door and laughter on my backstep. I opened the door to two of Cory's best friends since kindergarten. Try as I might, they will be perpetually five years old to me. They brought me gifts: a dream catcher and an invitation to one of their weddings. They came inside and we sat down to talk and laugh about Cory for the next five hours.
We caught up on all of Cory's other friends and acquaintances, gossiped about all manner of thing, but kept coming back to the topic of Cory. She was, after all, the reason we all knew each other. Five hours of sharing memories of my daughter with willing participants- what was that like? It was like being at the point of starvation, and having someone hand you a freshly baked roll slathered with real butter.
Every time I laughed, they got a hit of "Cory" and every time they told me some detail I'd forgotten, I got a hit of "Cory", too. It was bliss. At one point, Sissy shared a story about an elementary school Cory Girl that I'd never heard. I knew about her crush on Sissy's older brother...who didn't? I did not know that she came into school one day and demanded that Sissy bring her one of the boy's shirts because she needed to smell him! She was like...eight? By lunchtime, she got paranoid that the shirt could be considered stolen property. She decided the only thing that should be done- the only thing that could be done- was to bury it on the playground, which they promptly did. Can you see it?
I laughed until I cried.
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