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April 22, 2002.
The edge of summer.
Sometimes you can sense it when time turns a corner; you can feel the season bending at the seams, pointing you out in a new direction.
My friend Cole and I spent a few hours together at our office on Saturday working on this site. He helped me with the re-design and then he assembled all the graphics for me in Go Live.
He and his wife had invited Tom and me over for dinner that night. So when we were finished working we just jumped in his car (a sporty little convertible number, made especially for days like Saturday) and headed to his house. He put the top down and I put in a Sundays CD as we drove north in the late afternoon light.
We met Tom and Erica at their house. Erica had made the most fantastic hummus (I usually don't get too excited about hummus, but this was amazing). We moved out to the back porch for dinner. Their backyard was in full effect and was very splendid.
We had egg rolls and fine conversation and luscious vegetable curry. We spoke of future plans and of big dreams. We considered taking a trek in Nepal together. For dessert Erica served cut strawberries in little bowls. She gave us tiny dishes of lavendar honey to enjoy with the berries. Very simple, very elegant.
The citronella candles were burning and Bob Marley was in the CD changer.
And as the candles flickered and the moon rose I realized we were at the edge of a brand new summer. Who knows what the season promises? I am hoping for a summer full of starry nights and sunburns and big laughter and the sound of frogs in water. I am hoping that I can hold my husband's hand as we swing down the sidewalk and I am hoping that we can get that vacation we've been thinking about for so long. I am hoping we can splash in the pool and climb a tree.
If this summer is half as perfect as Saturday was, it's going to be one to remember.
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Perfect love is rare indeed — for to be a lover will require that you continually have the subtlety of the very wise, the flexibility of the child, the sensitivity of the artist, the understanding of the philosopher, the acceptance of the saint, the tolerance of the scholar and the fortitude of the certain. — Leo Buscaglia
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The Innocence Mission — Glow |
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It seems like a miniscule gesture, but it's something I can do. I'm really sorry about your cancer. I brought you some salad. — April 28, 2001 |
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