Thirty Something

Although I’ll Always Be A Morning Person, My Favorite Time Of Day Tends To Switch A Bit With The Seasons. During The Fall I Like The Cool Afternoons—Or, You Know, Football Weather. In The Winter I Find Nothing Quite So Magical As Late Night Walks When Everything Is Still And Blanketed With That Soft, Charming Quiet. Springtime, Then—An Awakening In Itself—Is The Best Season For Mornings, For Dewy Grass And Air Thick With The Scent Of Fresh Flowers: A Post-Rain Perfume.

And Summer? Summer Hits Its Stride In The Early Evenings, In The Time Of Backyard Barbecues, Fireflies, Bike Rides, Long And Leisurely Sunset Walks. There’s Just Something So Magical About Summer Nights; They Have An Almost Cinematic, Storybook Sort Of Quality That Brings Out The Best, Most Hopeful And Unguarded Versions Of Ourselves. And What’s Not To Love About That?

… That The First Day Of Summer Feels Like A Fabulous Holiday.

… That A Giant Cleaning Spree Is Totally Therapeutic.

… That Trying A New Restaurant Can Make You Feel—In The Best Of Ways—Like A Tourist In Your Own City.

… That There’s Nothing Quite So Perfect As Finishing A Great Book In One Sitting.

… And That The Best Plan, Sometimes, Is No Plan At All.

Rainy Days Make Me Introspective In The Best Of Ways. Especially Rainy Summer Days, When The Rain Is Warm But The Breeze Is Cool And Nobody Bothers To Use An Umbrella. The Sort Of Days When I Wish My Life Had A Soundtrack, Or A Theme Song, Or At Least A Clever Voiceover—Something To Highlight My Life As A Story Line, As A Series Of Woven Narratives.

It’s On These Days That I Find Myself Rising Early, Right Along With The Sun. It’s When I’m Most Open And Creative, Most Comfortable In My Own Silence. Everything Seems To Slow Down, Even My Thoughts, And For Once I Allow Myself The Space To Be Present. And Living In The Moment, That Doesn’t Usually Come So Easily For Me, Not At All. I Typically Linger Either A Few Steps Ahead Of Now—In The Hope Of The Future—Or A Few Steps Behind, In The Certainty Of The Past. The Present, I Think, Tends To Feel Too Definite—Especially For Someone Like Me Who Writes For A Living, Who Edits And Revises And Redefines.

But Not On Days Like Today. Not When The Stillness Feels Like A Welcoming Expanse, Like An Opening Where I Can Stretch Tall And Reach Out And Unwind. Because On Rainy Summer Days Like Today, Now Feels Like All That Matters. 

Dearest Dad,

I Know That You Are Listening To The Thoughts I Fail To Transcribe; The Thoughts I Have Of You Everyday; How Much I Miss You, How Much I Love You.

…..Happy Birthday!!!

If I Had To Name My Favorite Kinds Of People, It Would Be The Ones With Who Leave Me Curious—The Ones Who Intrigue Me, Maybe Even Confuse Me. The Ones Who Hold A Bit Of Mystery. As A Person Who’s (More Or Less) An Open Book, I Find Myself Gravitating Toward The People Who Are Unpredictable, Who Keep A Little Something Hidden Beneath The Surface.

It Becomes Almost A Privilege, Then, When You Get To Know Them—Because To Do So, You Have To Dig A Little Bit. You Have To Work For It. And In My Experience, It’s Almost Always Worth It.

There’s Something To Be Said For The Every Day Sort Of Friend, The One You See So Often They May As Well Be Family—The One You Do Everything With, Can’t Go A Week Without Talking To. But More And More I Realize How Much There Is To Love About The Other Kind Of Friend, The One You See Only Every So Often—Once A Year, Maybe, Or Once Every Few.

At First You Can’t Help But Notice How They’ve Changed, How They’re Different. Yes, You Realize, They’re A Bit Taller, Or A Bit More Confident, More Poised. They’re Quieter, Too, And Better About Keeping Eye Contact. Or Maybe The Changes Are More Obvious: A Different Way Of Dressing, Speaking, Moving. 

But Then, Once You’ve Mentally Ticked Off All Of What’s New About Them, You’re Struck—Overwhelmed, Really—By All That’s The Same. It’s The Way They Half-Smirk While They Talk, Or The Tone Of Their Voice, Or The Way They Scrunch Up Their Face When They’re Thinking. Their Movements Are The Same, Their Nervous Habits, And More Than Anything Else, Their Laugh Is Just As You Remember.

And Right Away—Instinctively, Inevitably—You Find That You Love Them All Over Again.

Just For Being Who They Are. Just For Being So Wonderfully Recognizable.

Weddings, By Their Very Nature, Are Special No Matter Who’s Getting Married. Any Celebration Of Love Carries Within It A Bit Of Magic. But When It’s The Marriage Of A Person You Really Care About, When The Person Standing At The Altar Is Someone You’ve Grown Up With, Someone Who’s Been A Constant Treasure In Your Life—Well, Then You Feel The Magic In Your Bones. In Your Spirit.

Over The Last 6 Months I Saw One Of My Close Guy Friends Get Married And I’m Still All Aglow—Months Later—From Seeing How Happy He Is, How Fulfilled And Lighthearted And Just Plain Joyful. He’s Found A Girl As Warm And Big-Hearted As He Is, And They Share The Kind Of Love That You Know You Could Learn From.

Congrats & Love You Both!