Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Learning My Letters
I pick up friends akin to the way I thrift store shop: Last minute I bump into something, it's nothing I ever thought I needed, but once I get familiar with it, it's a part of my life forever.
And so it happened just now that I came home from a hot and sticky walk to find a handwritten letter waiting for me. As the kids played "Dora the Explorer goes to Costco and Gets Chased by Hot Dog Villians" (thank you, Sister R, for the play castle) I propped up on the couch, letter in hand. It was from my aunt-in law who, despite not being related by blood, shares a similar disposition to me. (This is a nice way of saying she's a bit wacky, quick to laugh, and doesn't mind the madness of toddlers and fart jokes. She has four kids of her own - all grown now.)
I am touched that not only she would take the time to handwrite me a letter, but am once again reminded of how connection comes when you least expect it. My mom is older. My dad is gone. My aunt is pretty ill back East. It's nice to know that in addition to my wonderful family right here - you really are so great, people - there's other folks in the world who take interest in what I do. In who I am.
Will I ever get that novel done? Will I ever make a fortune in my Ebay business? Will I ever figure out exactly why my children must open every slice of my gum while I'm napping and soak it in the toilet for me?
With people like my aunt-in-law out there who think I'm halfway good at the thing I love most, does it really matter?