I spoke to a friend

I spoke to a friend today over the phone. Three days ago, she came back from Greece. Earlier than she had thought because she felt lousy. Physically. She called immediately her doctor’s office and told them to order an ambulance because she was very sick. That’s her. Rather than calling a friend, she calls her doctor’s office. Now she is in the hospital and has pneumonia. She knew she was very sick and left Greece and her Greek friends for that. This could be me; I must admit. Is it pride, or the wish for independence? - She said in Greece she had decided to sell her house in Mykonos. The house right on the ocean. Her beloved summer house. All those warm Greek summers, happy memories, and love for life there. She said the main actors were missing now. She is the only one left from her family. She wants to close the book with those memories. Yes. That’s what it is, she says. It is like closing a book. Last page read. And now she has pneumonia. She is brave, and her body feels that. Don’t worry, I’m not dying, I’m going to be o.k. she said. A new chapter can be written after that, I hope.