One of our oldest couple-friends, whom we met in college, came to visit this weekend. We compared our gray hair and belly fat without embarrassment. We don’t mind the term old because we go way back.
It’s an endearing term, even when you are sailing through middle age and wondering how did this happen?? When you are with old friends, you are ageless. (Or at least the guys in this quartet think they’re ageless.)
Time with old friends is warm and comfortable, like an unmade bed that you crawl into after breakfast. Old friends speak of shared history, misadventures, heartbreaks, and shared secrets. They possess intimate knowledge of family dysfunctions, competitive game nights, and regrettable arguments. Old friends have dirt on you. (You have dirt on them, too, so it’s fair.) Continue reading →
I usually post a new blog every Monday. It’s Thursday, and I’ve still got nothin’ to say.
Nothing clever. Nothing funny. Nothing profound. Nothing news-worthy (not that I write about news, because who wants to meditate about that?) I look out at my porch, mind vacant.
So perhaps it’s time to be still and rest. In our noisy world, where people clamor for attention so they can feel validated as individuals, silence is not a big virtue. In fact, as parents, we fret over children who won’t answer clearly, freely offer a handshake, or advocate for themselves to teachers and coaches. Quiet children concern us. How will they ever make it in this world??
And we miss the best self-soothing mechanism ever invented. Rest. Peace. Tranquility. The ability to be quiet and completely comfortable.
A lot of wise people have written about this concept. Here’s some food for thought, from some well-known writers: Continue reading →
On August 22, I wrote a blog entitled “Grief sucks,” and 458 of you read it (as of this minute). I wrote it after my great-grandmother’s mahogany table arrived at my home, fractured into 6 pieces.
Thank you for reading.
Technically, old things don’t have real monetary value unless someone buys them from you. But you read my blog, and you empathized with what I felt about my broken table. You understood that heirlooms matter because of the people they represent. They matter because they give memories a tangible time and place to live on, even after someone dies. Continue reading →