Saturday, March 14, 2009

Here With Me

I'm back in my little French cafe, it seems to be good for writing as I'm certainly not getting any editing done.
As I came up the walk, I noticed that the cushions they'd bought last spring had gone from bright red to a faded poppy color. I knew where all the outlets were when I went inside and the server smiled at me with familiarity as she slid cups of coffee in front of a couple sitting near. Have I really lived here long enough for this? I hardly ever use my GPS to get around anymore, and I even gave directions to a stranger the other day.

I've lived here for well over a year now, and there are some other things that have lost some of their color and some things that retain their brilliance yet. I hardly ever visit the ocean anymore. After I came home from Christmas and flew over it on the way, I didn't feel the need to; I used to feel like if I didn't visit it it might recede and disappear altogether, so strange and wonderful it was to have it at my disposal on a day-to-day basis. Formalities at work have fallen by the wayside and I am more frank with my colleagues and they are more real with me too. I feel less guilty than I used to when staying indoors during a gorgeous day, having grown up with the mentality that a day of sun was a sin to waste.

Though I am far from the honeymoon stage, I am happy here. I don't mean to stay forever, but this place is good for me. I miss my people every day, not one goes by that I don't regret not having you here. Different days for different people: when I walk into Anthropologie (I like to think of it as a clothing museum due to the exorbitant prices) Leslie is by my side finding the pieces that are just on the wrong side of style and making jokes and eating popcorn with me whenever I watch an unusual film; when I'm curled up at home with a book and candlelight, Alison is across from me on the couch, our feet in each other's laps and we end up enthralled in conversation instead of our novels; Sarah is always with me whenever I'm near the ocean and thinking of her often results in my dropping a thank you note to God for whatever is good that day; Heather is there when I wrap myself in the music she's given me, her music is home to me; Laura's laugh echoes in my ears whenever I see something rediculous or offbeat and I can easily conjure her hug when I need it; when I hear Spanish, I pretend Jessica is there to help me figure out what we just heard--sometimes we make up our own translations; Peter, you are the smell of an orange to me; Gina, you sit invisible across from me whenever I dine alone at a restaurant or go out to coffee; Tiffany's words return to me when I lose clarity and usually bring me to prayer.

This list is by no means exhaustive, these are just the people on my mind at the moment. Thank you for your unwavering support and friendship despite the miles and the duration. You all make me a better woman and I'm so blessed to know you.


Anonymous said...

Oh... it's so good to know I'm invisible... I love that. :)

Davenport Dame said...

Let's go to Anthropologie soon.

Benjamin said...

ARRR! I give up! I tried to leave a comment about 6 times.