Huit.

(This is the place where I normally sit when I'm with K and we're in the truck I love.)

My best friend gets married in eight days. Eight. There's something startling about that number even though I have known this would happen for weeks. Months. Years. 

Only eight days.

There is a small pile of gifts that is growing larger sitting on the edge of my dresser. Things I have collected and made with my own hands and written. Special things. I looked at it all the other day and thought about how meaningless it was. 

Things can in no way return friendship.

K's friendship has changed my life and added to my tiny heart and soul.

In eight days I won't repay her, but she will get the best gift a beautiful woman could ever want. 

And I get to be there.