Vivian

I had a friend named Vivian, she was amazing and lovely! An Adirondack hoarder of paper and poetry. As an adult I reflect on how, as a little blonde kid, I would love to sit in her living room and listen to her stories. I'm sad I can't remember them now. She wrote poetry, it just poured out of her. Beautiful reflections of her friends, nature, and, mostly, her Lord. I remember she was a larger lady with gray hair and a wobbly chin i don't think she bathed much, her tub was full of poems. I loved spending time with her. She inspired me to write poems and listened to my scrawling attempts and would recite her own, they flowered from her soul. She kept them on various bit of paper in shoe boxes and envelopes everywhere. Her house was literally cluttered with poems and she would want to find a particular one for you she would search through them hundreds...thousands... I always wanted her to publish them. Her daughter did, after her death. I remember it was a small blue paper booklet, I wish I had a copy. I haven't thought of her for years but tonight she came to mind so vividly, I scoured the internet to see if someone out there had her poems... and i cried, sad that her thousands of papers and poems are gone, just like she is and thankful tears that I knew her.