Ghosts

For years, Dr. P and I were close friends with Dr. P's roommate (DRM). After graduation, DRM went to grad school in the Boston area, Dr. P attended med school in NYC, as I enrolled in a masters program at Columbia University. Although we were somewhat scattered up and down the east coast, we kept in close touch with one another and a few other NYU pals (including Dr. F, who was in dental school at the time) through a listserv that we called laterchicas because Dr. P always ended her email with the phrase, "Later chicas."

It's hard to emphasize how much I valued laterchicas as I struggled to fit in at Columbia. Every break I had from class, I ran to the computer lab to check and see what the word was from my chicas. Those were good times.

Not long after I graduated from Columbia and got married, DRM dropped out of our lives with no explanation, although Dr. P and I suspect that it had something to do with her plans to marry a man she only knew for a few months. Over the last eight years, Dr. P and I have speculated about what happened and what she was up to. Then last night, she friended me on Facebook. While I am happy to hear from her and glad that she now has a lovely family, it really opened an old wound. I hope that we can resolve the past and rebuild our relationship.

On a not at all serious note, but continuing the theme of hauntings, I publicly announce that the Mets are dead to me for the remaining two games in the 2008 season. I spit on their symbolic team grave. If they somehow resurrect themselves and qualify for the post-season, I will now feel no conflict about cheering the Cubs to victory.