Nagoonberry

This world. This place. This life.


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Friends far away

This week’s Daily Post Challenge, “threes,” is an invitation to respond to one of six photographic triptychs.

I scrolled quickly through them, and the last set of photos grabbed me.

I saw the distinctive roofline of the Sydney Opera House and thought, “Australia!”

And then, “Lisa lives there. Well, not in Sydney, but still.”

Just for a moment, the photos, and the thought of Lisa, pushed hard on a sore spot.

The propelling force of my life has been centrifugal. My friendships have been like the steamed kale I put in the Vitamix this morning—hurled away from the center, shredded, splattered up, out, against the sides of the container.

We live in a time of such tremendous mobility. Lisa and I became friends during our first week of college, and now she lives in Australia, and I live in Alaska. Two wonderful adventures.

Given the choice, I suspect Lisa and I would make the same decisions that took us far from home, far from friends, that pushed us to places where we had to recreate our lives, put down new roots, try to make new friends.

But the cost is high, and some days I envy those who stayed closer to home.

Some days I wish I could wrap my fingers around a cup of coffee, look across the table, and have a long talk with a friend who has known me for decades.

Today is one of those days.

 


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Face-to-face, in passing

sunsetToday was one of those days where Willa’s nap schedule didn’t lend itself to leaving the condo.

Truth be told, there are a lot of days like that. And I was already a homebody, before Willa came into our lives.

It makes the problem of loneliness, which I’ve written about before, even more challenging. Now that I’m a parent, it has become so much more important that I keep my spirits up.

So I work on it.

Today, it was almost four o’clock, and Willa was still snoozing.

Brady was crossing his legs, desperately needing a potty break.

The post office would close at five, and we were expecting a package.

I needed a few things from the merc.

And Willa needed to eat and be changed before we went anywhere.

So I woke her up. (I know—never wake a sleeping baby, right?)

Changed her, fed her, strapped her into the Ergo, leashed up the dog and headed outside.

We stopped at the clinic, and asked if flu shots were available (they are). Promising to return with Liesl, we continued on our way.

Just outside the merc, we ran into Malia, who cuts my hair. She hadn’t met Willa yet, and it was fun to show her off (particularly in her cute strawberry hat).

We bought celery, carrots, and an onion (I’m making chicken soup tomorrow). Oh, and Chunky Monkey.

strawberryThen we stopped for the mail, and picked up our package from the postmaster, who is always happy to see Willa.

By five o’clock, we were back home, with our groceries, the mail, a happier dog, information about flu shots—and a whole bunch of brief, face-to-face interactions.

Those interactions—and the beautiful sunset I noticed as I opened the door to the post office—brightened my day.