eighteen: a letter for sweet Robin


Robin and I were friends for a very short time, too short. But she touched my life and I will remember her always.

January 18, 2011


My dear friend, I miss you so. Today is the first anniversary of your very untimely death. You were taken from us too soon.

I remember writing you an email after blog-stalking you for months. I hoped you’d write back. And you did (I remember clapping my hands when your name appeared in my inbox). We became insta-email pen pals, swapping stories about the publishing world, divulging sorta-secrets and bonding over our mutual love and adoration for all things British. It was the best friendship meet-cute ever. Nothing blows up my skirt like a cheeky, well written email. And you my friend, were a master.

And then we met in person, two weeks later: hipster-Jew and southern WASP. Perfection. Over the next eight months we cocktailed, swapped stories about our miserable jobs and lackluster love lives, and made plans for the future. I remember when you met Gavin—boy was I jealous! A real (and handsome) British boyfriend! Envy skyrocketed when you got engaged and dual citizenship was imminent. But most of all I was over-the-moon for you.

I saw you for the last time on December 11, 2009. We had a lovely time walking around a furniture show; I pretended to be your ‘colleague’. What I remember most is you turning to me, and touching my arm as if to say, “pay attention Lauren.” You told me how you’d never been so happy and how you felt like you were doing exactly what you were destined to do—Gavin, England, Interior Design. All the stars aligned for you. I will never forget that moment.

I still wonder why our paths crossed. I will forever treasure our short friendship and always regret your early exit from this world. Your witty letters are reminders of your sparkle and your laugh lives on in my memories. I hope you are as happy now as you were that December night my love. You are missed and loved dearly.



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