Gratitude
“The
magic thing about home is that it feels good to leave, and it feels even better
to come back.” (Shutterfly Community)
Getting
home from the lake was just as joyful as going to the lake. Liza was so glad to
see me she danced up and down for a good five minutes, tongue hanging out and
tail crazily swishing the air. I so enjoyed being at the lake—got in the water
every single day, rain or shine, and took boat rides, with Ellen’s expert hands
on the wheel. It was good to be in the company of women, to share the cooking
and cleaning up. No one needed special attention or “care-taking,” and no one
expected to be catered to or coddled. The lake was calmer than I’ve ever seen
it. The only activity came from rain and wind since there were almost no boats except for ours. It was a whole week to be with old friends, and to make
one new one—Suzanne. She fit in as though she’d been with us all along. Her
husband died about a year ago, and there’s no better means of healing than being surrounded by a caring community of women. And she, being a retired Episcopal priest, had
so much to give us that we all profited from her inclusion in the group.
I love
going to the lake, but I also love coming home. I stood on my downstairs porch
yesterday, among the mess of blown-in leaves and braids of spiderwebs decorating
every screen, waiting for Liza to conduct business in the back yard, and I thought about how grateful I am to have a home to come back to. About how much
I take that for granted—the result of privilege. Even when it’s a mess, even
when the paint peels off the eaves, and red wasps build nests on the porch, even
when Avondale brewery’s loud, night-life music disturbs my sleep—I love coming
home. It’s good to know that whenever you feel like you just can’t stand
another second inside “these four walls,” you have the freedom to come and go,
to stay or leave, when so many do not. I have enormous gratitude for the
friends who took me to beautiful Lake Martin, for the sons who made it possible
for me to go, and for the dog who welcomed me home again. Life is good.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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