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| Cheers! |
They are relaxed hosts, which suits be fine. When Steve and I were newly together, we made the trek to their new home very far north on the California coast. It was important for me that they meet and it was a great visit and everyone got along well.
I think Robin must have taken both these photos. What a happy time that was. Now I stay in touch through emails, phone calls and blogging. A trip is needed in the next couple of months. Here I come, kids!
Their friendship has sustained me over many years. I love them so much. We "get" each other.
I'd love to hear about the friendship(s) that sustain you, dear Reader.
I have a very small circle of close friends. The majority of them are from high school, one even from grade school. I met my "newest" friend about five years ago. Of course I have a lot of blogger friends I have never met. I think that's kind of fun.
ReplyDeleteI, too, think blogger friends are fun. Kind of like the new version of pen pals.
DeleteSuch a surprise to see these photos. Time flies these days. I almost can't believe that it's been nearly 25 years since we met. It's good to have a friend who can put up with me! Thank you for that. (PS-- could you send me a copy of the photo of you and Steve. I took that out at the marsh when you came for the visit. I lost a lot of my photos when my computer died in 2016, and that's one that I lost.)
ReplyDeleteyes, I sure will send it!
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ReplyDeleteA poem by Mark Nepo
Having loved enough and lost enough,
I'm no longer searching
just opening,
no longer trying to make sense of pain
but trying to be a soft and sturdy home
in which real things can land.
These are the irritations
that rub into a pearl.
So we can talk for a while
but then we must listen,
the way rocks listen to the sea.
And we can churn at all that goes wrong
but then we must lay all distractions
down and water every living seed.
And yes, on nights like tonight
I too feel alone. But seldom do I
face it squarely enough
to see that it's a door
into the endless breath
that has no breather,
into the surf that human
shells call God.
powerful and beautiful poem, Beth. The second stanza especially poignant for me now. Thank you.
DeleteWe moved when I was ten years old and in fifth grade. It was midway in the school year and the clicks had been established. I walked to school with a neighbor who became my best friend. We have maintained the sort of friendship that few people find over all these decades. She is always there for me and I would do anything for her. I was with her in the hospital with the birth of her three daughters. And there when her husband suddenly didn't want to be married to her. When my cancer was first diagnosed, I mentioned that the chemo would make me lose my hair for a while but that was a small price to pay. The following week I reeived a package of caps my friend had crocheted. Not only were they gorgeous, they were in different sizes for times when I was barely losing some hair to times when I might be bald. Regular cards and phone calls throughout and we both eagerly awaited the time when my blood counts were good enough for me to have company and she could visit. Both of us know that the other could call day or night and we would be there for the other regardless of the circumstances. We like to tell each other we know where all the bodies are buried and even help bury some of them. I am blessed.
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