Friday is the day I give something away. I make something to help me create an altared space in my life and offer you the opportunity to find an altared space in yours.
On our pillows, my husband and I are allies. The teenager who lives across the hall from us and offers us her forehead to be kissed and rarely hugs back when we wrap our arms around her is not as big a mystery when we are together on these pillows. We laugh and remember when she bounced on our lap. We promise each other she will return.
The petty relationships of work eat at me until I am nose to nose with this man and he is listening as I ramble on and on. The dent his cheek makes is a resting place for me to find myself again amidst the many personalities in the giant pool of life.
He dreams as our heads rest together. My husband draws us toward a life of adventure and constant renewal. He fixes my bike and buys me new skis because where there is a hollow spot in our pillows, he has anchored us to a future of playing and personal reinvention. He spends the time on our pillows wondering what tomorrow will bring to us.
Nose to nose, one ear open to the ceiling above, there is an invisible tie between us that has strengthened through the years as we repeat this banter of the daily news and tomorrow’s dreams.
It is lazy talk, just like the time of day. But in this lazy meandering, wandering through words without agenda, I find I discover myself most profoundly.
This is the paradox: by drifting through a conversation without agenda I am landing profoundly on the solid ground of who I am. When I was younger I thought keeping a marriage together was about having deep conversations with heaving import. While there are plenty of important conversations in my marriage, the more than two decades we’ve spent together have been filled with the glue of mindless chatter more frequently than earth shattering consequence.
Mostly a life is filled with the mundane. Frequently it is difficult for our cheeks to find pillows with time left to talk. We are weary when we finally stumble into our bedroom. Perhaps we’ve been up late tending to kids’ homework or a deadline at work. Sometimes we just stayed too late watching television on the couch and our eyelids are closing.
I have to make time to drift.
It seems such a waste on the surface. Making time to pause goes against my goal-oriented nature. I should be getting something done. But drifting with my cheek close to the nose of my husband is the iron core anchor that will keep me from floating aimlessly through the rest of my frenetic living.
Stillness is not highly valued in our world today.
It is, however, the only way I can find myself.
If you would like to have two pillowcases with fancy stitching from my mother’s sewing machine, please enter my Friday giveaway by leaving a comment here or by sending me something for my garden. If you are shy about commenting, you can also email me at rbcamullen at hotmail dot com. Entries are due by Thursday.