I finished Ann Patchett's memoir "Truth and Beauty" about her friendship with the poet Lucy Grealy. It is a heartbreaker, and also so complex and evocative and gorgeously written that it becomes what she hoped: a tribute to a remarkable person. But it is more it is a tribute to another remarkable person: Ann. It is the most honest and true account of two women's friendship that I have ever read, including all the jealousy, transference, envy, attempts to manage the other's mind, as well as the delight, comfort, history, and deep abiding love that two women can have for each other. She reminds us that friendship is dark as well as light, lost as well as found, cruel as well as kind. It had me impulsively searching through my own history of friendships, and finding little pockets of insight along the way. The book wowed me.
And this morning my dear, dear friend will come over, just back from seeing her dying brother far away, and I will be with her. We will sit in the sadness and talk, maybe even laugh, and I will be sharing a part of her experience right now, right here. This is an immeasurable gift, and I treasure it.
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