9.01.2005

untitled

this morning as i was getting on the metro i grabbed the paper as i always do. and yet again, there was awful, awful news from around the world: 800 die in stampede in baghdad; death toll in new orleans expected in the thousands; russian mothers mourn at child memorial in belsan. about 30 seconds before, i had walked by the site of a car accident in which a taxi drove over the curb, through a fence, into the yard and onto a house porch. what if someone had been sitting there, enjoying the evening, and POW! run over by a cab?!?! i guess it can all go away.

and i was overwhelmed with gratefulness and thanks and a sense of shame that my biggest problems right now are "how will i find the time to pick up my dry cleaning?" and "gosh, i really hope he can come with me to the wedding..." i'm so lucky that what makes me worry and causes my heartache is, in the big scheme of things - even though the anxiety and pain sometimes make my heart race, my hands shake and my stomach turn - really not that big a deal. my family & i are healthy. i have a home. i can afford to buy my dog organic, homemade dog treats. my city is not underwater, i don't expect to be trampled to death, and i am not weeping for the loss of a child.

sometimes i am very good at showing those around me that they are so incredibly important to me and expressing how much i love them. and other times even the thought of putting my hand on his knee causes those shakey hands, the racing heart, the turned stomach. it's so important to let people know how you feel about them. even when it's scary. when i boil it all down, i don't live for my jobs, or shoes, fancy tv, or even my home.

i live for love.

particularly those beautiful moments when i have all my friends around the dinner table. when i can convince g to let me hug her. when b & i can look at each other from across the room and know what the other is thinking. when i catch p kissing leroy. when i see my best friend with her arms wrapped so tightly around the neck of her fiance, eyes closed, knowing that this is as good as gets. when i listen to m talk about the grape. when my oldest friends can tell stories about us from pre-school, and sometimes even before. when my 6-year old God daughter turns to me as we are painting pottery and says, "emmy, i will always remember you...just like this." when my dad emails me and says, "all that matters is that we were all together." when j & i taste a wine together and simultaneously say, "mmmmmm!" when he reads to me in bed, kisses me in his sleep and make sure there's never a moment, all night, when we're not touching.

that's the point. the whole point of it all.