She embraced me when I left that afternoon. She is a small, older lady, cheery with her smile, but fragile with her touch. I visited her many times that summer and I knew that she enjoyed my company. I could tell her my plans for the future, my thoughts at that time, and what had happened to me in the past. She always gave me great advice that would comfort me. She knew when I didn't want advice, and would just sit and listen. I could tell by the expression on her face whether she agreed or not. She would give me advice if she felt I had done wrong. She was my best friend. We spent many hours together, reading short stories, watching PBS, singing camp songs as well as a few Christian songs, and laughing. I loved to listen to her play the piano. She knew all types of music, but my favorite was when she would play a little "swing" tune. It seemed to soothe me, relax my thoughts, and make me happy inside. It was never a hassle to visit her, it was enjoyable.

My youth group had decided to visit someone from the local nursing home five times that summer, and so I met Marion. I knew that she was nearing her dying day, the day I dreaded. I knew when she was gone, I would lose my best friend. I had grown so fond of her. I visited her after school that fall and I could settle down after a long day of classes. When I had homework, she would make me sit at the table where I could concentrate. She would go to her kitchen and bring me a tall glass of milk to go with the homemade oatmeal raisin cookies that she knew were my favorite. Of course she would only allow me to eat two. Too many sweets were not good, she would always say, not wanting me to lose my appetite for dinner. That small room in the nursing home was a comfort area for me, but it never brought me as much comfort as she did. Her smile showed the joy that I brought her while I was there. I loved her smile, her love, but most of all her friend-ship. fl