28 / 35 degrees
Rain, windy
Most of the snow has melted.
Finally put the tree away this morning. I guess it's safe to let Lola out now.
Today is my Aunt Lillian's birthday. Happy Birthday, Lil. I won't say how old she is but she has distinct memories of growing up during World War II. I am tickled pink that in the past few months she has re-established a connection with her high school sweetheart via the internet. They are planning a wedding for this year and I couldn't be happier for her. There has been loss and heartache in her life, more than seemed to be her fair share. To see such simple joy come to her at this stage in her life does my heart good.
Speaking of childhood sweethearts--I never had one. I was a particularly unloved and homely child. Unrequited love was pretty much a way of life for me all through me teen years.
Aside from that, however, I got a holiday letter today from a gentleman I knew in college. We have been exchanging letters for decades though we haven't set eyes on each other since the seventies. Every turn of the year brings a note from him, a little bit of this connection as we compare lives. It is a small thing but it warms me when I see his crabbed handwriting on an envelope waiting in my mail box.
I was such a needy, empty vessel back then, I wanted more than he could give me. At that point in my life, I wanted more than anyone could give me. I scarcely can remember being that girl. Perhaps that is a mercy...lol.
Despite my awkwardness (and his own), we became friends. I have fond memories of our conversations and shared moments, two youngsters striving toward adulthood. One of the clearest memories is of sitting together in the darkened chapel over the entrance to the auditorium one winter night, talking about what we wanted from the future, as the streetlights filtered through the lavish round stained glass window behind the tiny altar. He was unsure whether to be a doctor or a minister--in the end, he chose medicine but his letters reflect a deep and living faith. Not my faith but I respect sincerity and compassion in anyone.
It's odd--so many of those I shared close friendships with during college have drifted away. He and I shared no great passion or intimate friendship, but we liked each other and that has been enough to keep us in touch over the decades that have come and gone.
Maybe it is a small thing but it is something I treasure.
Rain, windy
Most of the snow has melted.
Finally put the tree away this morning. I guess it's safe to let Lola out now.
Today is my Aunt Lillian's birthday. Happy Birthday, Lil. I won't say how old she is but she has distinct memories of growing up during World War II. I am tickled pink that in the past few months she has re-established a connection with her high school sweetheart via the internet. They are planning a wedding for this year and I couldn't be happier for her. There has been loss and heartache in her life, more than seemed to be her fair share. To see such simple joy come to her at this stage in her life does my heart good.
Speaking of childhood sweethearts--I never had one. I was a particularly unloved and homely child. Unrequited love was pretty much a way of life for me all through me teen years.
Aside from that, however, I got a holiday letter today from a gentleman I knew in college. We have been exchanging letters for decades though we haven't set eyes on each other since the seventies. Every turn of the year brings a note from him, a little bit of this connection as we compare lives. It is a small thing but it warms me when I see his crabbed handwriting on an envelope waiting in my mail box.
I was such a needy, empty vessel back then, I wanted more than he could give me. At that point in my life, I wanted more than anyone could give me. I scarcely can remember being that girl. Perhaps that is a mercy...lol.
Despite my awkwardness (and his own), we became friends. I have fond memories of our conversations and shared moments, two youngsters striving toward adulthood. One of the clearest memories is of sitting together in the darkened chapel over the entrance to the auditorium one winter night, talking about what we wanted from the future, as the streetlights filtered through the lavish round stained glass window behind the tiny altar. He was unsure whether to be a doctor or a minister--in the end, he chose medicine but his letters reflect a deep and living faith. Not my faith but I respect sincerity and compassion in anyone.
It's odd--so many of those I shared close friendships with during college have drifted away. He and I shared no great passion or intimate friendship, but we liked each other and that has been enough to keep us in touch over the decades that have come and gone.
Maybe it is a small thing but it is something I treasure.
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