A tiny crescent moon smiled at me last night, but there's something ugly in the air these days. Some of my dearest friends are struggling.
One, a woman who has maintained an upbeat attitude despite long-term serious illness, hit the wall yesterday. She's tired and sad and scared. All the light has gone out of her bright sides.
Another, a talented screenwriter with endless enthusiasm for working and reworking his scripts, can't find the way into any of his stories right now. He doesn't know what to do with himself, and I suspect he's afraid that whatever "it" is, it has abandoned him. (It hasn't, of course, but every writer knows that fear.)
Facing the dark side of the economy, a third struggles to carry the weight of every member of the band of creative (read half-crazy) folks he leads at work.
I believe in these people the way I believe in sunshine and sea breezes. I love each of them as family. There's essentially nothing any of us can do except be present for one another, but that's the deal with true friends. We show up. We hold vigil. We lead each other home.