At the beginning of my pro bono work with police, before I had a plethora of contacts, I had to convince skeptical detectives of my skill. I had a set question for them, “Do you love your wife or girlfriend?” Yes, they’d say, and I’d say, “Prove it.” Every time they were stumped.
I felt stumped yesterday when a record snow fell into my life and onto the long lane that starts outside my front door. I didn’t think about how the only sounds I hear on this hill are a distant train whistle or bird songs. I didn’t think about how much fun I have when I drive in my yard and no one cares, and the thrill when wild turkeys come to visit. I only felt sorry for myself, alone at the end of the world. Or rather, my world.
My pity party lasted through cocktail hour and Netflix. As I sipped my potato vodka, I heard the roar of a snow blower. Low and behold, my three strong neighbors came to my rescue. I bundled up, gave them tissues for their snow tears, cheers for their bravery, and a bunch of cold hard cash. They would have done it for free but luckily, I had money to spare.
Today my tunnel of shoveled snow felt like love. A
phone call from an old friend and bright sun through my new windows felt like
love. Plans for spring felt like love.
I need to work harder to see my friendly encounters
as love. Friendship is love, and stuff can’t matter because it all gets old and
worn out.
My new year’s resolution was to not use so many
swears, as the kids call it now. I added another resolution today. I will use
my intuition to feel love, and love feels young.
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