Sunday, January 26, 2020

4,018

Herself speaks.

Yesterday, while Beloved Husband was out with his friends practicing riding their motorcycles, I went out to White Sands National Monument, and met up with Cherished Friend there. It was a lovely day: the weather was neither too hot nor too cold; there was no wind; the sun was not too bakingly baking; and there were people, but not too many, which was nice.

There were footprints -- mostly of previous human visitors, but occasionally of other creatures.


When you looked closely, you could see how the wind would whip the blades of the grasses around, causing circular indentations in the sand.


There was a large raven hanging about the picnic area.


The mountains looked lovely across the dunes.


I had brought sleds with me, because here in the desert southwest, it is far easier to sled at White Sands than it is to find snow for the same activity. The gift shop even sells sleds for just that purpose. We found a good dune; although Cherished Friend declined to participate, I took half a dozen trips down on the sled. Wheeeeee!

It was fun, and a little scary, and very silly for a rather round 52-year-old woman to go careening down the dunes. At the same time, it was a rare moment of freedom.
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This morning, Facebook reminded me that I became Facebook friends with Cherished Friend exactly eleven years ago. That's 4,018 days. 20.9% of my life. And I thought about the trip to White Sands, and about how grateful I am to know that I can be myself in front of Cherished Friend: I can be silly, I can be nerdy; I can struggle with internal feelings or external annoyances -- yet through it all, he does not make me feel stupid or overly sensitive. He accepts me as I am and generously forgives my human failings, and never asks more of me than I can deliver.

A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away. - George Eliot

He a good soul. I wish for his happiness, always.

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