It wasn't that everything was going my way. There were several times through the day where I faced my inability to remember a thing for more than 5 minutes, there were several times where I had to wonder about the general level of my intelligence. To top it off, I spent very, very little time knitting. It could have been the kind of day where going to bed at the end of it, was the best thing in the whole day.
Instead, all the less than positive things are put to their proper place. None of it was critical bad, and none of it meant anything to anyone but me. I will do better tomorrow. (maybe)
I met a friend for a beer and a nice chat about everything under the sun. We've known each other for several years. We live in the same city. For the past few years we worked just a stones throw from each other but we have only met twice. We talked about all the friends we have in common, who we have also not met, and all the silly things we have talked about and the people that we miss and how conversation and our differences enrich us all. That is how it goes with imaginary friends.
A little later I met up with some knitters at the library. Our knitting might bring us together and there is always talk about knitting and hand work but it is the general conversation and camaraderie that keeps us all coming back. It is a place to get out of your real world for just a bit and step away from being mom, wife, employee, whatever other hat you wear in your day to day existence, and can just be, sharing or listening as you wish. Some times the chat is only knitting. Sometimes its impromptu how to sessions and technical skills. Sometimes it is silly giddy fun,and sometimes it borders on philosophical and warmth and kindness and is so rich and warm that you feel your heart is going to burst with the goodness of it.
That was the kind of day I had. A day where at the end of each little thing I did, I felt the smallest bit bereft that it was done and that there wouldn't be more till the next time - except for that part early in the day wherein I faced my intelligence and found it to be lacking (I could have done without that I suppose). It was the sort of day, where it was so good, that facing the sorry bits was small in comparison with the goodness of everything else around it.
And then I came home and picked up the mail and faced the kindness of other good friends who I have never met.
Curlerchick went out of her way and picked up a copy for me, went down to the post office and sent it on its way. I appreciate the time you took to do this so much. It capped a day filled with warm memories and good friends.
And so I headed off to sleep, surrounded by the good thoughts and happy moments of my day, reading the silly, the ordinary, the sometimes profound and moving thoughts of Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. A good writer illuminates the human condition and Pearl-McPhee is a good writer.
I couldn't have asked for more.