Move a Body Friend







I have a “move a body friend”. We have known each other for sixty-eight years. What a lot of living we have done together and apart. We know where the bodies are buried. We are most likely not finished with burying bodies. Some people still have it coming. Her recent ex-husband comes to mind. Stay tuned…

It’s a powerful thing to have a friend like that. Someone who doesn’t even ask why there is a body to be buried and honestly doesn’t seem surprised that there is a body to be buried.

During my second marriage when I told her I had been watching true crime shows on TV to see what tripped the killers up, what got them caught, she didn’t call the police. Just as well, since I decided that divorce was a more sensible, if less satisfying option.

In other words, we trust each other. We get each other, don’t have to explain ourselves to each other and certainly never feel the need to justify ourselves to each other, whether the topic is a body to be buried or an ingredient purposely left out of a recipe we gave to someone who thinks she’s a better cook than we are- she isn’t, some things don’t need to be spoken out loud.

Between us we probably share so many secrets that no one else knows, we make the CIA look like amateurs. At our age, we may start to forget the secrets we have kept for decades, perhaps only to blurt them out Rosebud style as we are dying.

She usually likes my ideas and gets on board with my choices. Once when she called and asked what I was doing and I told her I was putting butter on a piece of fat-free coffee cake, she said, “Ooo, that sounds great! Now that’s a friend who will always lift you up with unconditional love and support.

Rebekah Spivey for The Poplar Grove Muse



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