In the Palouse now, resting my head against my pillow on a real bed--a bed complete with pillow-topped mattress, box springs and frame, so that I don't have to make myself fall down in order to lie down. I loved hanging with SK for half the week, but (sorry, Bugaboo!) I'm too old and stiff to sleep on the floor, even if there is an inch thick hidabed mattress between me and the hard concrete. I think we've had carpet pads thicker.
I'm not complaining, really I'm not. Last night I hung out with a couple of my close high school friends. We sat around a cheese cake...I mean, we sat around a table, eating small portions of cheese cake. Who us, overindulge? You must be joking. But let me just say, I could have eaten the whole thing, so I really was holding back.
We had a fine time, my friends and me. I laughingly told one of them as we met outside the front door, that I haven't seen them in winter clothes in a couple of decades. All of our get-togethers seem to occur on the hottest weekend of the summer, when all we can do to sit and talk and move toward the shade as the sun shifts. Oh wait, I guess that sitting and talking isn't one bit dependent on weather. Not one bit. We always have so much to say, one evening together isn't sufficient for all our words.
All in all, the last several days have been rich and meaty. Cheesecake for my soul, one might say. Conversations that had girth, that stretched from births to deaths and encompassed everything in between. After such days, such single moments all in a row, I am so broadened, so heartened to simply be in this world, that I'm overcome by it.
I love--love--the life God has set before me, Like that cheesecake on the table it's full of variety and texture, and compells me to make choices between good and good and good and good. If that makes sense. Now here I am in the Palouse, surrounded by my beloved hills, dark chocolate and ready to winter, and I'm content. Thankful to my baby, SK, for a full, rich time. Thankful to her roommates who gave me a peephole into their lives, even into their hearts. What a privilege.
I spend many hours alone these days. More hours than I might wish, though I need solitude like I need air to breathe. Like I need to write. Like I need God. And yet, I also hunger for community, for life-giving conversations that never last long enough, like last night, like the one this afternoon as a friend drove me halfway down the road home. Like the many of the last week, leaning against kitchen counters, or curled up on a mattress a single inch wide. I need those conversations, those kinds of interactions like I need air to breathe, like I need to write. Like I need God. Because in them, just as sure as in those solitary moments, I see and hear and event taste Him-- truly cheesecake to my soul.