we need each other

Monday, March 3, 2014

I wrote of the calculated inwardness of this long winter to a friend earlier today. He understood. I wrote of the defeat of grey, of my fear, during this oppositional season, that I had let friendships lull—that it had become so hard, so cold, so iced over out there that I had finally succumbed.

But it is almost spring.

Today I wished to restore things. Today I wrote to friends with whom the correspondence has stilled. Today I read Michael Ondaatje, trusting. Today I allowed myself an hour of not making something, explaining something, fearing something, wanting something.

These things happened: A beloved neighbor knocked on the door and came in. A former student wrote of her memories of our time together last spring. A dear writer friend wrote to say that she was reading something of mine at an airport, while waiting, no place more private than an airline terminal. My son wrote to me, gigantically. A note came in—handwritten, red. Another note—electronic ink. A card signed in blue. A thank you. Old friends became unlost friends. I lifted my head and said, Hey.


It's almost spring.

We need each other.


The1stdaughter said...

We do. And it's meant more than I can express, your being there when you can be. You're a true friend Beth, a wonderful person and I'm grateful to have you in my life. Thank you. xo

Bidisha said...

This is the most beautiful thing I've read this week.

I need writers like you.

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