(This photo has nothing to do with the post, except that it’s from the last time I was at the beach – a windy, stormy, cloudy day. I think it’s fitting for a reflective post.)
Yesterday, I was filing some old jobs in the storage room and a thought came to mind that I immediately figured must have been from a dream the night before. (Though I should have recognized from its pleasant nature, that it was real life. None of my dreams have been very sweet lately.) It was just a glimpse of a memory, sitting next to someone on a front porch. Dusk settling into the evening, casting shadows on the street in front of us. Knees brushing, sitting side by side. A cold bottle of beer in my hand. Laughter, the deep kind, that slowed down as the words started to flow in hushed tones, as the conversation turned more serious. Not serious in a boring way, just serious in that way where after hours of talking you know you’re sharing things in a bit more thoughtful way. The words are still flowing, but both sides of the conversation are listening deeper. It’s the way we know we’re revealing a layer of ourselves. My heart swelled when I realized it wasn’t a dream, but rather a sweet moment that occurred a month or so ago which I’d tucked away somewhere in the back of my mind. It wasn’t infatuation that made me appreciate that moment, but I was happy to be reminded that these special connections are still occurring in my life no matter how few and far between. Times like that are my favorite. If every weekend was full of quality encounters like that, I would be extremely content.