October 1, 2002:

Was she right to leave your life like that?

La Jolla, Fall. Exhausted-looking woman slumps on a bed. Moonlight through open windows paints her silver.

"She never said why." Silver tears on a wet silver face.

She was cruel and hateful. Maybe she herself was wounded by something. Doesn't matter.

Her beloved childhood friend has walked out of her life. No explanation. It was like a verdict from a secret court. She's had no chance to understand the charges, explain her motives, change the judge's mind.

In practice, what did she gain? Is she happier now? Is her life better? Is she stronger? Is she more than she would have been?

Hardly. She robbed herself of one of the treasures life had blessed her with, a soul who should have been her life-long friend. She stunted herself, made herself smaller, stole something of her own life's truth and meaning, and in the process she showed that evil often manifests itself as pettiness.

Is it wise to take her as your model?

By morning she's laughing again. But her anguish runs after her like a loyal dog.