Our house is the full gamut, whatever that means. This afternoon one person after another sits on our porch, lays on our couch, sits on her bed, hunches on our front steps, tromps up our back stairs, and finally pulls into our driveway in a little red car with New Hampshire plates. The last one, and sorry if you're any of the others, is my favorite. One of the best people I know and certainly one of my most favorite people in the world. We walked around Potsdam for an hour before landing back on my front porch, him leaning up against a pillar and me rocking on the hammock.
I live for times like these.
I thought I was an introvert all these years; I function best when I'm alone. I get the most done when there's one or none around me. I am a powerhouse of duty with no audience to be had. But I'll tell you this: enter someone I love and my heart is a happy place.
Thing number two that I'm learning is that everything is going to be okay, but sometimes okay is a tiny bit better with other people around. I might still be an introvert and maybe someday I'll be a bastion of output--a veritable factory of invention when I'm all by myself. But today and in this season, I am grateful for the true blues in my life. There are many and maybe there are few, but there are some. Some who when we sit across from each other in the dark on my front porch and talk about values and finances and self-employment and church and God and thrift store jeans and Polynesian stir-fry, my heart is glad.