Sparkles

It only happened once.  I cried one time, and one time only, when talking to the prosecutors. Often, I was angry, or furious, or disgusted.  Always, I was sad.  But I sobbed for the first and last time when the lead prosecutor asked me to describe the moment when Christina-Taylor met Gabby.

In retrospect, it's surprising that I'd never gotten that perspective on what I'd missed.  On January 8th, I was in the moment, just the way a nine year old is in the moment, flitting from one fascinating topic to another with barely a breath between.  We hadn't gotten that far in our adventure; we were still in anticipation mode when the bullets began to fly.  I don't indulge in what if's about that morning.  It is what it was; I smile ruefully accept the facts GRIN, and move on.

So, Wally's question took me by surprise.  I'd never considered it until he asked about it.  It took me aback.  Literally, I stepped backwards and found myself on the ottoman under the window, chest heaving, tears flying, sobs wrenching.  TBG took the phone and reassured the quaking AUSA, poor guy, who had reduced me to a puddle. I felt for him, through my weeping.

All I could say, gasping the way you do when you've been crying and crying and crying, was "there would have been sparkles."

It stuck in my throat, and still manages to create a lump when it appears at the front of my brain.  Those two would have loved one another. Each would have seen herself in the other.  Each was self-confident enough to share some personal space with the other.  There would have been sparkles.

I was reminded of that today at lunch, where there were sparkles galore. It's all part of Christina's legacy, the assurance that she will never be forgotten.  We three would never have met had CTG and I not gone to shake Gabby's hand.

What's the opposite of no good deed goes unpunished? That's what I witnessed this afternoon.

We met at Ghini's, Tucson's French bistro/bakery with the unpronounceable name. We were all in gym tights; it's what we do.  The proprietor of my pilates studio met the proprietor of my physical therapy gym.... and there were sparkles.

I didn't say 50 words.  If you've been here for a while, you know how unusual that is.  There was nothing I could say; I spoke when they looked hungry and I noticed that my plate was nearly empty while Kyria's bowl of vegetable soup was nearly untouched.  Y'know that thing where you bring two people together and turns out they have nothing to say to one another?  Not so much of that today.  Nope, not so much at all.

We were relaxed by the time Becky's ice tea arrived. They were exchanging business cards and professional contacts before we ordered. They were full of admiration for one another by the time my tuna on baguette arrived.  It's a good thing I ordered twice as much food as they did; they were talking so much not a lot of eating was going on.

Becky's thrilled to be asked to speak at Kyria's international conference next May. Kyria would be delighted to share her curriculum guide .  Forking perfectly dressed salad to my lips, I tried to avoid dizziness as their heads nodded up and down and up and down, as the conversation jumped enthusiastically from German videos to Pilates lineages.

I was an after-thought.  Yes, we should all meet and work me out someday.  That's it.  There was none of the clinical examination of my condition which was my worst nightmare as I thought about the meal this morning.  Instead, by the time our ice teas and Arnold Palmers had been sucked dry and refilled more than once by the overly tall waiter, their calendars were full of one another and their voices were full of thanks to me for bringing them together.

It was my pleasure, ladies.

I got to see those sparkles, after all.  My heart is full. I can feel Christina smiling, too.... can't you?