a best sort of friend

 I will be heading out the door very soon to spend some time with a special friend. She became a widow last January when the solo flight airplane her husband was piloting crashed. He was deemed an hero because he successfully guided the troubled plane over a heavily populated neighborhood onto an open field. He was just that kind of man.

We will pray and laugh and talk about Jesus. We will knit and eat whenever the mood strikes. We will stay up late and drink coffee tomorrow morning while still in our nightgowns and plan the morning's ventures. We will remember and cry tears. Because isn't that the best sort of friend, after all?