Russ Everett

 I knew this man named Russ.

We met online and I think we were maybe friends right away.

We didn't date, precisely. No kisses, none of that.

But connection, yes. Wasn't that what we were all looking for online? 

Well, 

I think of him a lot, anyway, more than a dozen years later.

So I guess we're connected.

I remember lying under a tree by Glenmore Reservoir

Staring up at the sky.

Was that the first time we met?

I think I remember him saying that I taught him something that day. 

Something about staring up at the sky. I don't remember what, but maybe, simply, that it was important to take time to do that, lie under yellow-leaved trees and marvel at the blue blue sky.

He taught me.

He taught me something important, but at the time he said it, I was surrounded by less wise friends, silly little folk who believed in making others fit expectations (an impossible task, really, a foolish goal). 

Russ said, "If you want him, you gotta accept."

And I think I said "but..." and "what about..." and all kinds of other silly, small, foolish things.

And Russ was a mountain. Russ knew.

If you want him, you can only take him as he is. That's how it works, said Russ.

Russ was not silly, and Russ was not small.

And Russ died way too young, but his lessons live on.