Tag Archive for light

Love, Love, Love

Before noon today, I received surprise news concealed in a routine email – an acquaintance is engaged … and expecting!

I shouldn’t have been surprised. It capped an already happy morning. I came in early and was done what I thought would take all morning before nine, and then found a meeting canceled – happy day indeed, which, in turn, laced and tied a wonderful weekend. More than happy, it was a weekend, no a time, of love.

Saturday morning ML and I brunched with an old friend. I was blessed to grow up with “family friends” – I was probably 20 or so before I realized not everyone had this. But we did. And this friend – J – almost exactly a year younger than me has been my friend pretty literally from (her) birth. We shared a crib and a childhood at the therapeutic camp our parents ran that integrated “typical” kids and those with emotional disturbances or developmental disabilities (yessss, it was the 70s), holidays and playgrounds.  She and her family are more than friend, sometimes more than family. We spent weekends in a multi-family cabin in the Adirondacks, touring Williamsburg one year, at their community pool, after they moved to Virginia, a lifetime away then, when I was a kid.

Her dad’s calm, steady, soothing eulogy is one of the few concrete moments I can recall from my dad’s funeral when I was twelve, their support instrumental beyond measure in helping us all move beyond that day and breathe again.

J and I are both “sensitive” people, something that as anyone who has Read the rest of this entry »

Add to Del.cio.us RSS Feed Add to Technorati Favorites Stumble It! Digg It!

Home III – Summer storms

Against the aqua of my curtains comes yellow so bright, I think it must be car lights. It is 8:20 p.m.

I open the curtain to see that no, it is the summer sky before a storm.

Yellow beams hit my curtains, pebbled sandy driveway, clean white stone of the walls of my building. The rain is coming.

Thunder literally rolls over the yellow green of grass, magnolia tree leaves, footprints.

Flashes of white that stab the earth and listen, wait.

I open the curtains wide to breathe in the wet wind.

When the rain comes, it is in drumming, pattering waves. I love the smell, the taste, the feel of the night from my room, the same storms I watched from a similarly yellow-lit blue room of my childhood.

The summer storm makes me feel something is coming. And anything is possible.

[Photo by “Soleil 1016” on Flickr]

Add to Del.cio.us RSS Feed Add to Technorati Favorites Stumble It! Digg It!


Uh, what's a blog? Hit the panic button. Or E me.

I also blog here: