YAY! It’s February again! And I love February–after all, it is the month of love.
And I think it is a wonderful time to not only pay tribute to those we love— romantically and platonically–but also to remember all the things that make life worth loving.
NOTE: This is Part II of a two-part series. Please check out Part I.
As I stated in Part I, a dear friend asked, “If you could spend 24 hours with anyone doing exactly what you want, who would it be and what would you do?”
Answering this question has uncovered longings in me that I did not even know I had. It seems that I am famished for connection, family history, and continuity.
Last week, a dear friend asked me a most ordinary but meaningful question. He asked:
If you could spend 24 hours with anyone doing exactly what you want, who would it be and what would you do?
Her name was Mary Mathilda Lavinia.
Yesterday, I discovered this sculpture “Friends” by Nnamdi Okonkwo in downtown Suwanee, GA, and I fell in love–immediately, irrevocably, completely.
Little acts of romance can happen every day if we expand the definition by making it more inclusive of all the people we love–mom, dad, brother, sister, friend, lovers–and then finding ways to weave it through the everyday fabric of our lives and the lives of our beloveds.
First, a very important and necessary disclaimer:
I believe in love that fights.
I believe in love that sacrifices and gives every thing, every thing—and not think twice.
The very best films break open your heart; or remind you of something very important that you may have long forgotten or buried in some dark corner of your mind; or delight your heart and your mind with a new recognition of the stunning beauty and power of the human potential.
What a hateful week it has been! At times I felt buried under a tonnage of stress: taking care of my mum; giving her shots twice a day (yuck!); witnessing her pain and despondency; dealing with my own health concerns; coping with my fears of the future, of failure, and of impotence; and, sadly, having to observe emotional callousness, too close to home and out in the world.
As I mentioned in my last post, Michael came to see me last weekend. Yeah! It was fun and too short.
And since he was coming, I wanted to look my best, of course, so on the Thursday before his arrival I went to the barbershop to get my hair cut so that I would look fresh and feel pretty.
And this is the absurd exchange that ensued from the moment I hit the door:
