One last book dicussion, for old times

"Her old friend…Who made her laugh, who made her see old things with new eyes, in whose presence she felt clever, gentle and a little raunchy…who’s past she has lived through and with whom the present was a constant sharing of perceptions. Talking to [her] had always been a conversation with herself. Was there any one else before whom she could never be foolish? In whose view inadequacy was mere idiosyncrasy, a character trait rather than a deficiency? …[When she] stepped inside, the dishes piled high in the sink looked as if they belonged there; the dust on the lamps sparkled; the hair brush lying on the “good” sofa did not have to be apologetically retrieved."

--Toni Morrison from Sula



I was reading a book, I think you said once you didn’t care for this one, but this is what it said. I have to borrow these words; they are about the friendship central to this book I am reading. I have not been able to create the words to eulogize ours. I just wanted to write down what we were because I know I am starting to forget. But when I read it, I shed the tears you asked me for six months ago, because this, in that paragraph, this is what we were.

I would say this is my last comment on this topic, but I have not finished the book.