Thanks To Facebook

Marigold Oger grew up without a mama, this pretty girl with eyes of greenish blue. Because her mama died unexpectedly in the middle of a dark wet night when she was two. We met in middle school after we kept laughing at the teacher’s idiocy at the same times. I sort of have ADHD, the moron told us. “I’m off my meds, but the school board thinks I’m fine.” By the end of this teacher’s class, Marigold and I were thick as brother bears. She could spend Friday nights at my house, and she did; we practiced a lot of interesting swears. She’s a bad influence, my mother said, relieved, when Marigold’s family moved 5.4 hours away. Thanks to Facebook, we got reacquainted forty-one years later, and we have more in common every day.