There was a period of time after college when all my friends seemed to move away in a drawn-out exodus.  Most of them gravitated toward another city just like ours but with longer, colder winters.  My good friend E was no exception. 


 For awhile I pondered the possibility of orchestrating a “friend trade,” thinking that some other person’s friend must have moved here, right?  There are people moving here all the time.  I thought about it.  Then I made it happen.


E had moved, sure, but we kept in touch and the last time she visited “here” she also visited an old friend from high school whom I had never met and who had lived in Europe, and recently moved back.   I Facebook friended the mutual friend, found out she was a knitter, and invited her to knitting club, picking her up because she doesn’t have a car and lives close by.  Weirdly, we hit it off by telling E stories and figured out pretty quickly what other unusual coincidences that we have in common.


Of course E caught us posting stories about her on each other’s Facebook pages, but they were all such interesting, funny, warm stories that- well, how could she be mad?  It is too hard to make real friends in this world, especially starting as an adult, to criticize how one can become friends.  I will have to post more about this.  Maybe tomorrow.


I was awake all night, creative, inspired, and feeling wonderful mentally, if not physically.  Jack was sleeping on the couch just a few feet away; his gentle snoring was a comforting rhythmic soundtrack.  My brother was facebooking me unexpectedly from Cleveland- of all places- from a train (it was 3:30 am there), and an old friend from high school was awake feeling sick and chatted with me.  I wrote and wrote and wrote, brainstorming an idea that had been just a vague nagging kernel, but overnight began to take form and shape and started to seem real, finally.  Really real and a definite possibility.  I pitched it to a person that I thought could help me make  it so. 

Birds started chirping.  The sun came up, the sky turning that translucent blue that only God could create, and that only Salvador Dali could capture in paint.   I finally fell into a deep perfect sleep around 5 am, leaving a note on the coffee pot for Jack to get me up in time for my 8am physical therapy appointment, which he did.  I love him so much.

PT was fantastic.  It “hurt so good.”  I am still not tired…I took fewer meds today, too- the best part is, I was not watching the clock waiting for the exact minute that the next doses were allowed and checking them off in my notebook.  I feel almost back to normal (for me.  My own version of normal.)

So, I feel pretty debilitated with this back injury and all, and am unable to do much but hang out online, which is something I enjoy anyway…though usually with a clearer head, or maybe one or two nice cold cans of PBR…not all this prescription crap.  Which is helping, but also giving me the  dry heaves (haven’t barfed yet, praise God).

I put out a couple status updates on Facebook.  I got one offer of bringing me some supplies- which was incredibly heartwarming and thoughtful, particularly since it was from someone I don’t know very well IRL.  I also put out a prayer request, and got two promises of prayer in response to that.  I put up another one, then, that offered- free for the picking- some fruits of my garden that I just am physically unable to harvest myself and don’t want the deliciousness to go to waste- hoping that someone would be able to use the stuff, cook with it, make something yummy–maybe even bringing some back for me- and the multitude of responses was unbelievable.  I can’t complain too much.  A bit of company and the (however remote) possibility that someone might be kind enough to scoop the cats’ litter box would have been wonderful side benefits.  Perhaps my mild irritation is more the side effect of the pain and the meds, because what else do I have to do?  Nothing.  Just wait, nap, contemplate human nature, and follow the slow-moving time spiral as it curves ever onward, into a conceivably better future.