the fondest of friends

This weekend a friend came to visit whom i have more recently been getting to know over the past year. we met in 2003 when we were assigned to share a bed while on a spring break trip in college. We remained only good acquaintances until just recently when we began a dialogue over the internet. How thoroughly i enjoyed our time together walking through the city, parks, and along the water. We enjoyed the theater Saturday night and bouncing ideas off one another over a cup of coffee on Sunday. The warm conversations enjoyed with her were both refreshing and challenging to my soul.

 I have experienced many long distance relationships in my short lifetime, and I have come to appreciate the personal growth that comes from them. There is never any reason to dapple in pointless conversation nor any space left for long, dull silences, but instead we suck up every minute we have by indulging in the most important topics and laying every detail out on the table in order to get as accurate a taste of the person’s company as possible. Friend, I am impressed by your growth, covetous of your love for me, and respectful of your opinion. Thank you for our time together.

To all my loved ones who have been separated by distance: though we are pained by the absence of a touch or look, ours are the relationships that will grow to a lifelong, even eternal, status.

Proved once again: “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

coming home (our city life)

quarter past

one hour still

one cold night last

tonight refill

am i lazy?

There is a constant longing inside me. Sometimes it is a small whisper beyond the hustle of my life, but other times it screams loudly from within. It tends to pounce forth when i am immersed in work i am not excited about. when i feel as though i contribute hours and hours of work to purposelessness. In these moments, I long for a life that allows me the time to stop and smell the roses whenever I want to. My roses manifest themselves in visits to the farmers market, jogs across the bridge, great books, cups of coffee, rainy mornings spent in bed, and endless time with loved ones. I desire this life and yet I know it is impossible. So where does the longing come from. Am I a glutton for home and sweatpants, or is this something intrinsic in me? Is there a hint of perfection in my longing? Hints of sin? For my heart beats wildly at the thought.

beginning

It is almost midnight after a long work day, and tomorrow I will be forced to do it all over again. As I prepare to drop my head to the pillow (for I am already in bed), I am accompanied by a new joy. A joy knowing that a place has been set aside for me to organize my thoughts, to dialogue, and for the woman inside me screaming to break free to be revealed. To her, I say, “Welcome! Pull up a chair. Grab a cup of coffee. It’s going to be a while.”

My fingertips are tingling and my heart is fluttering with excitement. I am tempted to stay up all night, burried under these covers with my laptop in front of me. But responsibility is calling and my eyes are growing heavy. Oh, Sun, come quickly! For there are thoughts to write and not enough hours to explore them.

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