Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Finding True North
With the simple ring of my cell phone my predictable weekend turned into a mini-vacation. The fluid voice was that of Jude’s, AKA Lady Judith, (but never Judy) stating that she and her husband, Richard, (just Richard, although Sir Richard would suit him nicely) had flown in from St. Croix for a few days and would love to see us. Before I knew it these treasured friends were in my guest room (which I made ready in a happy haste) unpacking. It had been a couple of years since our last visit and we were excited to be together again.
When you haven’t seen someone for a while you notice the subtle changes in people’s appearances and they notice them in you…crinkly smile lines, thicker lenses, shocks of white brushed in by longevity, transforming familiar faces into time-lapsed versions of their originals, triggering feelings of tenderness…and shameful relief that we weren’t the only ones maturing.
We passed seasoned memories around like expensive hors d'oeuvres, savoring the flavors in delectable silence, periodically exploding with peals of open mouthed laughter, and then settling back into a satiated silence. I wanted to capture the moment...put it in my pocket, so I could take it out and enjoy it again when joy turns slippery and life seems flat.
Under the soft lighting of nightfall we shared our dreams. Dreams shaken like talc from a near empty tin, revealing powdery expeditions to uncharted places, true north lying somewhere between I have to and I want to, and navigating more towards I want to, because have-to’s are all too common…and time is an impatient traveler.
It was a spur-of-the-moment tribal gathering of ad-libbing elders speaking all at once, producing a symphony of voluminous chatter, adjusting our wisdom to answer our fears, and boldly inflating our faith in preparation for the adventures ahead.
Sharing our home with these intimate friends resulted in a medicinal mingling of souls which was restorative on all levels; it was like having a cosmic prescription generously filled by life… and conveniently delivered to our front door. We will miss them.
Posted by Leah Griffith at 4:59 AM