Playing for Time

My friend is quite possibly the best maker of New Year's resolutions on the planet. She is serious, y'all. She writes down her resolutions and she makes them happen. In previous years she has resolved to learn screenwriting then gotten herself accepted to the New School at the Actor's Studio; resolved to concentrate on her art and gotten gallery showings across the U.S., including NY; resolved to be healthy and survived several years beyond the predictions of even her most optimistic doctors.

22 resolutions and counting this year. One of them is to play more, so yesterday we played pick-up sticks.

No need to check the archives. Yes, she was sent home from the hospital to hospice care earlier this week. Yes, she is terribly ill. (She's 6 ft. tall and barely weighs 100 pounds, even in several layers of sweat clothes and sweaters.) Hugging her still feels like embracing a bag of dry leaves.

None of that will change if she lies around crying. Instead, we played and laughed and cheered one another's daring moves...with pick-up sticks. Her set is a gorgeous collection of birch and cherry and mahogany and walnut sticks. The darker the wood, the more points you get for collecting the stick. I love that detail. Reaching for the dark, we found the Light, all afternoon.

Next week when she's stronger, we're going to thrown down with Twister. For today, it's more Earl Grey with honey, more macaroons with chocolate, and Scrabble. Playing games in the middle of all this may seem like fiddling while Rome burns, but she believes joy multiplies her moments and she needs every one. She's got 21 more resolutions to keep this year.