isn't that a great metaphor for life? we pry open the door of our disappointments and put our backs against the frame, using the flatness of our palms to hold the door open. the fresh air from outside this room hits the left side of my face and slips in through the angle of my bent knees. the hinges protest, but they give . . . little by little they give. and before we know it (or after what definitely feels like a very long time), the doorknob has made a hole in the wall, the threshhold is clear, the walls fall down, the shades are sprung, someone's made the bed . . .
we're free.
Summerhouse BedCoastal Living Collection
(found here)
in other news, i miss this girl (the cornsilk-haired one you see below, and that's a self-portrait by hers truly if you must know) with my whole heart. i could be living in her home right now, having dinners of granola and white wine, surviving on guacamole and Chambord, watching certain parts of certain movies over and over again. we could be laughing at the top of our lungs, singing quietly, running through the house screaming, sitting in different parts of the property altogether reading to ourselves. we could be poring over a fashion magazine. we could be crying. and while there's so much that could be, today i'm going to be thankful for who she is, who i am, and how God brought us together 6 years ago. besteretta, i'm thankful for you. here's to 6 more years.
sometimes it's hard to live in the here and nowwhen so much of what i love is far and gone
so aujourd'hui les choses sont gris {today things are grey}. today is an in-between day, an uncertain day. are we walking through a cloud? was it ever really real? they're tricky see, the grey days. i begin to convince myself that history hasn't really occurred. that the future is far-off and dim. that there's nothing in this world for me worth pulling aside the fog for. but that's not real. that's not the reality that's been given to me. and when i quell the droning, unkind voices that threaten me on days like these, i hear a heartbeat above and beneath it all: love was real. love is coming. love is.
we have been
we will be
we are.
enveloped in this mystery,
i trust steadily
i hope unswervingly
i love extravagantly.
and in this reality i am alive.
elle est {she is}
je suis {i am}
vivante {alive}
we will be
we are.
enveloped in this mystery,
i trust steadily
i hope unswervingly
i love extravagantly.
and in this reality i am alive.
elle est {she is}
je suis {i am}
vivante {alive}
4 comments:
oh jeez. i gotta tell ya, i'm eternally jealous of amazingly tight friendships such as yours. i've been thinking a lot about this over the past year, since my mum's best friend, my mentor, died of breast cancer. she was the sister my mother chose, the auntie i was so lucky to have. they were the best of friends, and were most whole when they were together. i know my mother has lost a hugely significant part of herself, but i also know she was infinitely lucky to have had such a beautiful friendship. it's not something i can say that i have, but i admire it in others. and wholeheartedly hope it comes my way.
xoxxo as always
j
You ALWAYS make a way for bright things. It's your very nature. It's one of the reasons I love you most. You don't need to stand between the door and its frame when the light is shooting out of your fingertips.
It's when you write posts like these that it feels so so so dreadfully unfair that we've always wrestled with the distance between us -- international borders at first and now national borders. Sometimes meanings are lost in translation, lost over distances, lost in the dark...as people pour their words and love into a cup, and then pour it down the line, from vessel to vessel, the potency of the liquid becomes lost.
Not so here.
No matter how many cups are between the two of us, the pours stay steady, passing through the outstretched palms of space without a drop being lost.
The feeling stays clear.
I can feel your light from here.
I suppose it IS our 6 year anniversary! We should start celebrating.....somehow.
And secondly, to my dear friend Jordan:
It will come. Because you are deserving of it.
hello mes cheries...
jordan, thanks for sharing that. i've always thought female friendships were so incredibly complicated, and i've come close to throwing in the towel on them altogether more times than i can count. but even though i often yearn for the simplicity and straightforwardness (i.e. EASE) that male friendships afford and envy the un-complicatedness they seem to enjoy between each other, i do believe female friendships provide a depth and support that is unparalleled. i'm sorry to hear about your mentor. i'm glad she lives on in you and in your own desire to find a friend like her. i can only echo the words i heard in my soul yesterday to you: this kind of bond is real. and it's coming to you. i don't know how to thank you for your support and kindness here.
plumeinmypocket: 30 years of life celebrated in paris? that would be 2012...
i feel your pour too sister, and today it's like a waterfall pounding on my shoulders. love you.
...and IF...it's going to be grey...make it...EARL...he knows how to treat a lady...& her friends...ALL of US...
...happy friendship anniversary...near or far...she's in YOUR hem...
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