Revelations

To see things through the eyes of someone less accustomed than yourself to the daily vistas of your own life is quite revealing. If you're prone to overanalyzing, that is.

At first, there's the exuberance of novelty; that which is new is unfailingly exciting. But with the wearing of the day, novelty gives way to cautious familiarity, aided in part by simple fatigue. Then, as evening yields itself to full-on darkness, another reality thuds dully into place like an anchor: everything, everyone, every experience is new only once.

I had the fortune this weekend to spend time with friends, and I truly consider them so, though I've only really known them on-line. Together we dabbled in my world, and through their eyes I learned (or re-learned) the following:

~I lack the sophistication I've always envied in others, but I have a warm and genuine smile, and oddly, I hug nearly everyone I know;

~I laugh easily -- too easily perhaps, betraying a mind almost effortlessly amused, but I revel in the banter of those whose intellects afford them a rapier wit;

~A chipmunk is really quite fascinating, especially when seen up close;





~There's a nearly infinite variety of fungi growing underfoot on a path I've traveled often, but have never really seen;




~Sunlight looks different when filtered through cedar branches; and the creeeeaaaaaaak-ing sound made by trees in the wind is unbelievably cool;

~Tacky bars with tackier music at unbearable volumes, are nearly unendurable when you're jet-lagged, no matter how lovely the company;

~Love and marriage are rarely mined from the same quarry; but sometimes, some dazzlingly beautiful times, they are;

~Love can't be avoided always, either. It's beautiful then too, though painful;

And finally,

~Mixing margaritas and martinis is no better an idea the second time you do it than the first. ... Really.



Thank you, THANK YOU, for being here -- it was a highlight of my summer!