Fourteen years have passed since I lost my best friend. Suddenly. Like a wrecking ball.
She was only 53 when she died. The same age as I am now. Chilling thought.
I think of her so often, especially around this time of year. She loved Art Deco Weekend and she would have loved what it has become. The eccentric frivolity of the Gatsby Picnic. The family-friendliness. The unpretentious fun.