Yesterday would have been, if my math is correct, my friend Donnie's 58th birthday. And it's been nearly 17 years now since the car wreck that killed him, on his way to work. That's longer than the time we were friends, longer than I knew him.
It amazes me that I'm no better adjusted to a world without my friend today, than I was on that stormy Monday...17 years ago. I was better for knowing him. But, I'm worth less every day and every year since. That's just the way it is.
I miss you, my friend. I'll raise a freshly squeezed Budweiser to you, sir. I wish you a happy birthday, on that great golf course in the sky (or is it a great blues bar?).
Whichever, would it kill you to call and say you're squeezing the phone tight?
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