Perfect

Received the perfect gift from a cherished friend: a timely, befitting quote from a scientist-author. And in receiving this splendid present of words, I have been rendered speechless.

Safety Net

The plans are falling into place for Herself's 25th high school reunion. There are events at the school itself, as well as dinner and post-dinner festivities at various locations throughout the metropolitan area of the school's city. Overall, I think she is looking forward to the trip, although making her way to the appointed locations in unfamiliar territory, at night using a rental car, will be a bit daunting.

I noticed a rather large upswing in Herself's anxiety regarding the reunion today when she learned of certain gatherings that will be available - in particular, two get-togethers that encompass the reunion class from the brother school to her all-girls school. She confesses that she is of very mixed emotions about attending those particular events. While she might like to attend, she will be need to step fairly outside of her comfort zone to do so.

Seeing her old classmates will be enjoyable, she thinks, for despite the difficulties she usually has with small talk, there are multiple standard questions available regarding children and careers, and reminiscences to be had about common experiences from years ago. She truly is interested in learning about the divergent paths that many of her classmates have taken over the years.

Eliciting conversation with the men that have grown from the boys she barely knew twenty-five years ago, however, is an entirely different matter. Never having particularly enjoyed dating or the "bar scene," and well aware of the significant difficulties she encountered in her limited experience in the high school dating arena, she imagines these functions will be much like the wretched high school dances - she will make her very best effort, and yet, no one will want to speak with her. The hardest part will be that she will be there by herself, without the security of her Beloved or her local friends, upon whom she can always rely to keep her company.

So why go? It's difficult to express. She says that in one small way she is looking for some of the validation that she never really received in high school. In other, bigger ways, though, it is a challenge for her. Can she do this? Does she have the confidence and the ability to go? Twenty-five years ago, the answer would have been a firm NO. Now, things are different. She is different, and she is glad for the changes.

She will have her safety net with her. It is woven out of the comfort she has in, and the love she has for, the people in her life now. Her Beloved, her Offspring, her taekwondo friends. They will be in her heart, and she knows that whatever happens at the reunions -- no matter how many or how few people talk with her, no matter how often or how rarely she sits alone -- she will be able to come home to them. Their invisible presence will make all the difference for her. And she is grateful.

Garden Haiku

Glorious red globe
Ripe tomato on the vine
My favorite scent.

Here Comes The Rain Again

I do so love the rain in the desert.

I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you?

-Annie Lennox

Back in Time

Two weeks from today, Herself and I will be stepping onto a plane to make a pilgrimage north for her 25th high school reunion. I am eager to see Herself's old 'stomping grounds' and to learn a bit more about the places, and the people, of her formative years. For her part, she is a bit apprehensive.

High school - she has such mixed sentiments about it. The academics were outstanding, to be sure, and she is quite grateful for the knowledge she gained during those years. The social aspects, on the other hand, were fraught with the myriad complexities and difficulties that so many experience growing up.

She wonders, will she feel the same way she did back then when she sees her old classmates now? Will the passage of time have enabled her to view them more objectively? Will she realize, she should have been kinder? Less judgemental? More helpful? Less passive? More involved? Less worried about what others think of her?

Will she be able to put some of her old insecurities to rest for good? Or will she realize that she was, in fact, not a particularly good person or a particularly good friend, and have to come face to face with regrets?

What ghosts will arise?

We shall see.

Pearlescent

A pearl is a temple built by pain around a grain of sand.
What longing built our bodies and around what grains?

- Kahlil Gibran, Sand and Foam

Thanks For The Mammaries

It is that time of year again, when the air warms, the desert blooms, and Herself schedules her annual mammogram.

She knows that several of her life choices (exercising, watching her weight, avoiding alcohol, having her first child before the age of 30, and having nursed all of the Offspring as infants for significant lengths of time) have reduced her overall risk of breast cancer. All the same, she has that tiny fear that lurks in the back of every woman's mind in the interval between the mammogram itself and the receipt of the results. The concern is compounded in Herself's case by the recollection of the three (mercifully benign) breast lumps that she had removed many years ago. While the incidence of those benign lumps does not increase her risk of cancer, the memory of the surgeries is still enough to make her just a tiny bit more apprehensive.

It's quite a relief when the letter arrives in the mail - for any problem would have resulted in a phone call. For another year, she appreciates her continued bodily integrity. Once more, she is grateful for the presence of her bit of cleavage.

Now that this year's test is behind us, we can joke about the procedure itself. Herself quipped that given the way the technician manhandles her mammaries to position them properly in the machine, she should at least get dinner and a movie first. I racked my brain for every possible breast-related pun I could conjure, making quite a boob of myself in the process. It was quite titillating. (Terrible, I know.)

Ta-tas for now!