Some more about friends

A good, good friend was visiting Portland earlier in the week, and came to our house for dinner and a long visit on Tuesday night. This is a guy I just adore; he's very smart, well-read, interested in a wide variety of stuff (from movies to books to music to nature), and he's going through an extremely difficult time at the moment. It's times like these that I regret not being in the Bay Area (not that I can do much to help, but at least I'd be around for coffee dates and shmoozing). He has a lot of good friends who care about him deeply, and I don't doubt that he'll get through all of this at some point, but it's hard for me to see someone I care about in pain. I do hate feeling helpless...

This morning, when I climbed off the Theracycle, I glanced over at a wicker rocking chair that sits near the west window in our sunroom. The chair was a hand-me-down from our friend Mary, who was going to ditch it if she couldn't give it away. The cushion on the chair is covered with gorgeous fabric, bought in consultation with our friend Darlis, who also sewed the cover (since I can barely sew on a button properly). And there's a little, quilted pillow, with Laurel Burch kitties on both sides, made by our friend Reva, sitting up against the back of the rocking chair. It's a small piece of furniture, but boy, does it carry lots of wonderful energy - and reminders of good friends.

I just glanced over at a small cork board hanging on the wall to the right of my monitor. There are several post cards from Paris (my favorite city), sent by friends who knew how much I love the place. There's an origami heart that Reva made, and a wonderful birthday card my sister sent me a few years ago. There's a tiny Christmas ornament, given to me by Patti, whose presence in my workplace when I first moved to the Bay Area literally saved my life, and who remains a dear, dear friend, as well as a set of worry beads she brought back from Greece. There's a tiny Japanese kimono-doll, given to me by my friend Peg. And a drawing of a Land Shark, done by Zack when he was nine or ten years old. And my pin, designed and printed by David, so many years ago that it's very faded (used at WELL parties to identify me to all the folks I'd only met online).

And that's just one small space in the office, again a spot that's crowded with memories of good friends and beloved family.

So the next time I'm feeling blue because a friend has visited and is now many hundreds of miles away, I'll do a quick reconnaissance around the house to drink in the memories and remind myself that all of my friends are available, at least virtually, whenever I need a fix.