A quick note before bed. I Love my friends.
We arrived well after midnight in the clutches of an old, old friend from high school, Whitney. We sat in her Cambridge apartment retelling our adventures of the past two days and beyond, and I’m coming to the realization of just how very kind the people are that we’ve met. I’m really looking forward to meeting old friends again, ro re-encountering those we’ve been out of touch with. But I sort of wanted to send myself off to bed with the knowledge that I have a fierce, visceral Love for many of these people.
Not the storybook “I’d die for you” kind of passionate Love, but a depth of respect, admiration… an appreciation for their beauty. Will and his artwork, his strangely out-of-place kindness, Whitney with the smooth, porcelain skin that will never change and the quiet demeanour, waiting to insert some insight into whatever she sees… people who I’ve know for years, but even the new ones, the people at the Centre Coffee Bar tonight, or back in Wilmington, or California, or Richmond, or Omaha, or Belleville, or long ago Loveland… I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve the creatures I’ve managed to surround myself, and it’s sheer arrogance thinking it’s me… I’m sure they’d befriend any wanderer – the friends at home – this all may seem trite, but it wouldn’t be if you knew them.
Even my cynicism melts on some days.
