Friday, March 26, 2010

Roman Skies


What is it about spring that makes her long to wander through European streets, through cobblestone alleys with little cafes that are tucked in between book shops and walled cemeteries? Where skies above are so blue that they seem unreal? Where bridges can lead not just across a river, but to an adventure awaiting on the other side?

There's no wandering through European streets in her future, so she must resign herself to blue skies over New England, to rough paths through the forest, to tiny cemeteries hidden amongst birch trees and maples, to adventure found by crossing a ford through the stream out back.

Maybe she'll buy a baguette tomorrow.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

In Honor of Friendship

After reading Facebook status updates, she thinks how much she loves her friends--her friends who make giant batches of sauce so big that they need two pots, her friends who adopt children from Russia, her friends who celebrate Pi day, her friends who write books and her friends who don't, her friends who have songs stuck in their heads, and her friends who eat cereal with half and half.

She loves her friends who worry about her, her friends who bring her chocolate, her friends who call "just to say hi." She loves her friends she's known since forever, and her friends who she has only just met. She loves her friends who live down the street and her friends who live across the world. She loves her friends who pick raspberries and can with her, and her friends who buy raspberries and haven't a clue about canning. She loves her knitting friends, and her reading friends, and her friends who do spa parties.

She loves her friends who remember the exact place they met when they were freshmen in high school. She loves her friends who came to the hospital after a car accident, and her friends who offered to donate blood for her family members. She loves her S3Q2 friends, and her WTHS friends, her HAA friends, and her BYU friends, her IUPUI friends, and her VCFA friends.

She loves her friends who have cried with her, and her friends who have laughed with her.

And laughed at her.

She has been blessed with a lifetime of good friends. Thank you, dear friends.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Magic Eight Balls

Sometimes she wishes more than anything that she had a crystal ball--so she might know what to expect, so she can plan.

Because, boy, is she a planner. Lists galore. Lists by her bedside. Lists on the refrigerator door. Lists in her bags and in her head. Things to do. Things to buy. Things to bring. Menus. Activities. It's her small way of taking control, of making order, of prioritizing.

Mail taxes.

Mexican rice w/chicken.

Cotton balls.

A crystal ball would be so helpful, she thinks. Priorities would be set, neat lines with small check marks after each one. Time would be wisely spent. Order would reign in her small bubble, where everywhere else lies chaos.

Lentil and bulghur soup.

Cheesebread.

Order more checks.

Sometimes she just wishes she knew what was in store. When would this problem sort itself out? When would she finish her novel? If only she knew, then she could be calm.

Toothpaste.

Lasagna Bolognese.

Call cable company.

But on the way home from the doctor's office, she realizes that sometimes one doesn't want to know what's in store. One doesn't want to know the future, especially if the future is laid out with clarity.

One shake of the magic eight ball. Do you want to know the future?

"Don't count on it."

She pulls out a piece of scrap paper. Time for a new list.