To Be Known

My friends’ daughter, Emily, is seven. She’s a petite, dainty, precocious, dramatic, funny girl. She is a sprite – a tiny little fairy with a big smile, beautiful blue eyes, and light brown hair. She loves attention and loves to entertain. She is happy. She is loved and knows it; she is very comfortable in her little body. She’s well behaved, kind, considerate, and giving. We see her only a few times each year, usually at barbecues or short visits. She always wants to stay with the grown-ups and sit on her Dad’s lap; she’s all ears, very interested in all we are saying and offering quips when she deems them appropriate to our conversation.

Frank saw her Dad, John, on the golf course late fall after we had gone to their house the prior weekend for dinner. John said Emily came down the next morning after our dinner and said, “Guess who I am?” She smiled and laughed, and at the end of the laugh, her voice lilted up in a unique way, kind of staccato. “I’m Kim,” she said laughing.

When Frank told me, I began to laugh….and lilted up in a unique way at the end. That she would notice that, that she would care, that she would re-enact it the next day made me wonder. I didn’t know I did that; I had never noticed. I know as I’ve gotten older, my laughing has become more hardy, more joyous, more physical in my body. And Emily noticed it. It had to have been noticeable enough that she was even able to mimic it. How cute, I thought. I felt honored she’d care.

Then, I told my son about what Emily did. Before I described the laugh (lilted up…unique), he described it to me and said exactly that! He told me how my laugh intensified at the end and then he did it on the phone. Now, I really wondered about all this. My immediate reaction was not embarrassment or concern that my laugh was a negative....a joke. It actually made me feel very good to be known. These two people were describing a habit of mine that they noticed, that they thought was a little endearing maybe, and something I didn’t know about myself. The warmth it made me feel to be known showed me how everyone wants just that – to be noticed, to be validated…..to be known.

Photo: Oat Nuts Park Trail, Portland

My Favorite Day

There's nothing like a hot Saturday in July at the seashore, especially if Frank agrees to sit way at the end of the beach, toward Prout's Neck, beyond the life guards and hoards of people with blankets nearly touching each other. We sit quietly and watch the sun sparkle off the waves, read, nap, chat occasionally, bask in the heat of the sun on our bodies, dream and plan future vacations or places we must see someday. I wear my straw hat.

As wonderful as those days are, if I have to pick my favorite, favorite kind of day, that wouldn't be it despite how much I enjoy it. My favorite day is pouring rain or lightly snowing, especially early in winter, before I'm sick of gray and barren and snow. It could be a day just after a holiday when all is quiet. No one calls; we've just spent lots of time with them. No one visits.

I run early in the morning. I run better in the rain or snow, perhaps because truly I'm dying to get back inside so don't stop or slow down. I was told when living in London that rain is great for a woman's skin; I always remind myself of that as cold water drips off my ball cap and rain soaks through my running pants turning my thighs beat red.

On the gray afternoons, I light candles, turn on soft lights in the daytime, and pull inward. If my chores are done, I love to while away the hours in quiet cerebral pursuits.

I write. I move from laptop to PC, room to room, chair to chair. I listen to soft music, especially Sarah McLachlan's Wintersong or Sting's If On a Winter's Night. I read. I look at pictures in beautiful books I've saved for just such afternoons. I have a cup of coffee at 2:00 and a glass of wine at 4:00. I let my mind wander and peacefully dream. I love the quiet. I love the solitude. I love the seasons that foster this introspection....for this, I live in Maine.