Kitchen

 Herself speaks.

During a Zoom call yesterday evening, Cherished Friend was making a cup of tea and brought the tablet with the Zoom window open on it with him -- so I momentarily had a view around his kitchen, which I haven't seen in person for nearly a year now. And it was so distractingly delightful to have that glimpse of this ordinary space of his life, that it took an extraordinary amount of energy to refocus and remain in the conversation and not allow the unexpected pang generated by the view to inflate and pop right then. 

One of the small blessings of being so extraordinarily busy lately, is that it is easier not to think about how much I miss having my Friend nearby, about the small joys of being able to make a meal, go for a walk, play Scrabble in person. The flip side, though, is the weight when it makes itself known, like a clap of thunder and a cloudburst in the desert -- a deluge of sorrow, of the knowledge of what I am missing. 

This is the price we pay for having a Friend. 

It's always worth the Price, though.