reach [out]

We have never met. Only spoken on the phone. She is lovely.
I think she has been around for A Hundred Years.
She has a biscuity old voice. Scottish I am [she says with pride].

She is telling me about a dream she had. About her best friend, who died two years ago.

I dreamt that she was welcoming me inside. We talked and drank tea, just the way we used to. And she was right there, holding my hand; I missed her so much. But then it was time to go and I didn’t want to leave. I said goodbye. And she said: don’t say goodbye, say cheerio.

Her voice fractures. I’m sorry [she says].
I want to hold her hand, but I can’t.

Would you like me to call you again [I ask].
I would like that very much [she says].
Not many people call me anymore.

[friends: reach out]