A man named Loyal

I had a friend whose husband was named Loyal. He’s the only person I’ve with that name. According to one source, the name Loyal peaked in popularity in 1890 when it reached 555 on the list of top 1,000 boys’ names.

That friend and I lost touch after she moved to New York to be an arts administrator. That’s one small story in my life. I’ve met a lot of people over the years. I bet that you lose contact with the majority of people with whom you’ve been socially acquainted. If you move away from your hometown, friends from childhood slip away. I sometimes wonder how my next door neighbor is doing. We called ourselves best friends when we were 5, 6, 7, 8. My family moved out of state, and that was that. I heard she majored in Math in college. I would have never taken her for a numbers person. We probably would have drifted apart if I hadn’t moved. Who can know?

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Is the Autumn of the year a time when we tend to ruminate on the past?  Lately, I’ve felt like I’ve lived a thousand lives. It seems as if the places in my dreams are spots I have physically inhabited. There’s a dream I have where I find possessions that I hid away in an attic. It always seems so real that I expect to come across the items in my waking world.  I keep asking the universe to tell me what is real and what is not. I probably know, but don’t know that I do.

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