We had the gift of a good friend's presence overnight and this morning. As always, her smiling face brought answering smiles to ours, her industry in the kitchen inspired our own culinary creativity, and her determined peace exemplified the internal journey of selfhood through often overwhelming life-trials.
Usually when she comes we talk and laugh and share anecdotes of our lives, but this time I felt sulky. Even though terrified of being a bad hostess, I still could not force myself to interact much. The was, I needed to be alone. I needed to read and ponder until I had finished my current book (Villette, Charlotte Bronte). I needed time to sit and wonder over my infant's imperative elbowing me in the ribs. I needed coffee, consumed in grateful silence.
I informed my friend, with hesitation, of my feelings, and was delightfully surprised when she laughed and said she could use a good quiet reading morning herself. So we made coffee (with molasses and ginger), sat next to each other, and read! I found myself gradually opening up and by the end of the morning we had a wonderful chat before parting