He could chase his moon. And I would gather my own sixpence.
——
When I opened my eyes, the world had changed.
The joint pain that had tormented me for half my life was gone, replaced by a lightness I hadn't felt in decades.
This place was…
Before I could make sense of it, someone threw their arms around me from behind.
"Teresa! Why are you standing there spacing out? Aren't we going to the art exhibition?"
It was my best friend, Stella Simmons.
"You—you had cancer, you died, you were gone—"
The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Stella's face scrunched with displeasure, and she grabbed my cheeks, telling me to take it back right now.
"What is wrong with you? I'm right here, perfectly healthy—eating well, sleeping well, not a thing wrong with me!"
"I take it back, I take it back!" Once wasn't enough. I said it again and again.
Cancer had whittled Stella down to almost nothing. If I could help it, I would never let her go through that again.
All the missing, all the grief—I grabbed her and held on tight, held on like I'd never let go.