My musings result from a couple of great weekends away, the first with freshly made friends, the second with more established ones. They were not extraordinary excursions; in both cases, short drives out of suburbia, with basic accommodation, mozzies, a medley of balls, bikes and kids and grazed knees, all washed over with shared wine and late night laughter. However, they were both incredibly relaxing and joyful, and it was the companionship that made them so.
I have not always been blessed with friends, having spent a great deal of my early teen and pre-teen years grasping for peer camaraderie, let alone kindred souls. I am still not quite sure why exactly this was the case. I suspect that I simply happened to be a misfit for my particular time and place, rather than being a victim of conspiracy or the fruit of my own doing.
Regardless, to now be able to go away as I have, and to be a welcome part of the crowd, feels like a true gift. As did, too, other moments, both big and small: the day when, cradling a new born, I found a curry on my doorstep; the time when someone else faced the task of taking my newly dead husband’s clothes away; the moment when a wry comment cracked through the office, and lifted the dreariness of a horrid day. Those moments are countless, yet count so much.
I am content enough with my own company, but there is certain warmth that comes with a good mate. So I am just putting it out there: I unashamedly love it when such a one unexpectedly knocks on my door, rings my phone or tags me in a Facebook post.
That’s it. I don’t have a more deep and meaningful point to make; this is a mere expression of gratitude for all the lovely souls who over the years enriched my life and let me into theirs, lifted my spirits and made me glad to be here, and to be me.