So much to say about this woman. Where to start?
She's the person I want to call when I fail, and I fail frequently. She's the person I want to call when I win. She's the person I look into the audience hoping to glimpse. I know she's not there, but I still look. She, the laughter that fades beyond earshot.
A few years ago, I realized that I compare all women to her. I'd meet a woman. Confident, kind, pretty. Almost right. Only one thing wrong with her. She's got NS.
She is Not Suzanne.
At first I didn't realize what it was, but then I began to catch on. It's an Epidemic. As vision develops, I see the letters branded on their foreheads.
Spectacular, magnificent, elegant, but . . . NS
Compassionate, accomplished, intelligent, but . . . NS
Conscious, spiritual, radiant, but . . . NS!
My heart's a weird heart. It's got a space in it that only Suzanne fits. I've lost interest in trying to fit anyone else.
A single phrase to describe to describe my friend Suzanne Palanuk: My Favorite, my only favorite.
