My New Friend

Visiting my friend’s home for the first time,
our friendship so new I accept a beer
rather than ask for water.

We sit on the deck,
watching a doe and her fawns
step out from the trees.

My friend goes in for another beer,
comes back with a photo album.
She wants to show me how deep the snow got ten years ago.

I flip the pages, stopping at a shot of her 20th high school reunion,
A small class, maybe no more than 30, and most of them women.

A knock-out blonde in the front row demands attention.

“Cheerleader? Homecoming queen?” I ask.
“Dead,” my friend says.
“Breast cancer,” my friend says.

She knows I’m a survivor.
“Oh, that’s sad,” I say and turn the page.