If Van Gough was a woman, he would be my friend Kit.

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I have a friend with flaming red hair who’s gone missing.

And when I say missing I mean, totally missing, scary missing, poof. Vanished into think air. And here is the thing, the police don’t really care. Unless you’re a child or an elderly patient with dementia, you don’t matter if you go missing. They’ll post about it, but that’s all. 

Last time I saw Kit, I was in her beautiful, well cared for,back yard. She had vines growing up over her table setting, she had carefully planted herbs in her back yard. She took the time to make tea, and served it with milk from a local dairy and honey from a local honey farm. She was and is one of the most beautiful people I know. And, now, as I write this I’m trying not to cry because she encouraged me to be an artist, to pick up my brush, and to start painting again.

Here’s the thing, I’ve never had a sister, so having a best friend that was special, so special to me that I can’t even begin to explain it. We’d meet every Thursday and share Pho and tarot, we’d talk about relationships, art, and magic. Sometimes she frustrated me to tears, but always, her words made sense to me and they changed my life.

She had that kind of power, the power to change my life, to help me become a better person and a better artist.

I think I’m obsessing, because I feel so helpless. She said I was like a pit bull, I would light into a problem and hold on for dear life until it was torn to shreds. So here I am trying to tear thought a mystery to find the answer. 

Today I talked to homeless people and hung posters all over the junction area. Today I drank tea and thought of her. Today I couldn’t paint because the brush felt so heavy in my hands. 

L

 

Note: The police did make a huge effort, Kit’s story was published all through the news, and so I take back some of the comments saying that they did not help at all…..and apologize. Lots of work was put into finding Kit, and in the end for all of us, it was too late. 

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