a wish for today

and the world
spins madly on
{ the weepies }

my head is cloudy today; all i want is an iced caramel latte. really.
and with each sip of sweetness tempered by the taste of espresso,
i want the troubles i know to subside, leaving nothing of themselves but a faint memory.
if only the world's burdens were rendered distant by coffee . . .
well . . . perhaps in some ways, they are.

today i'd love to meet quietly with my friends under the shade of a summer tree, each of us bringing our bread and our burdens to the table. undoubtedly someone would bring fresh flowers. someone else would pull champagne flutes out of her market tote, and a third would set grape clusters right on the table. together we would share our plates of life both delicious and dreadful, and everything would seem more bearable.

it's amazing to me how the thoughts or presence of other people can shed light behind our tightly closed eyes, even though neither of those things might change actual circumstances.

so since i can't set a table with my friends today, friends who need me (and i need them), i hold them in my heart. i imagine how they might look cross-legged in the chair. i see their eyes squinted against the bright sky. i hear the rise and fall of voices. i feel the ocean of love always rolling over and over, taking the debris out to the depths, making me new.

love,
she.

photo: deborah lloyd's table
from lonny magazine