Mrmm! I am so very exhausted, yet so busy with great items of joy. I don’t have to heart to cut anything out of my schedule and so I trail behind, trying to keep up, as I did when I was a little girl keeping up with my mother’s steps, exuberant in her company, frightened to be left behind. I understand this is a great step now, being able to even keep up at all with a full pace, despite my exhaustion (and “they” say I’ll be exhausted for perhaps another 6 months)! But this is how my life is and I am still happy with it these days.
I am busy with work, with a full house, with social engagements….!
The other day my awesome friend came to visit. During our short time together, she gave me so much joy that I have not had to write here (or in my diary) for my survival, as I do most other days. (Yes, writing is one of the ways I survive). We giggled as much as we talked–so much so that the server at the restaurant clearly found us delightful (maybe that wasn’t such a hard status to attain, as the place was filled with sour-faced ladies who wanted “tea IN the bag, ON the side, not tea leaves IN the tea!”). I knew I had missed her, but it was not until I saw her and felt her presence that I realized how MUCH I had missed her.
We did nothing extraordinary–we talked, had lunch, walked around town, and browsed a bookstore, chuckling at things like how Michael Chabon’s signature can look so different–and which book with which signature ought I buy?!
Yet the day was extraordinary and so very good for my soul. What was the magic about? I want that everyday for myself.
There are novels, likewise, that do not have an extraordinary plot, but somehow transcend and make a mark on the psyche. The writing brings a book alive, no matter how ordinary the elements.
What can make a life come alive, no matter how ordinary the elements?