Oh, I have found it.
The perfect reverie.
Just here and now
with Jean-Yves Thibaudet's Pride and Prejudice soundtrack
and this breeze, this heavenly cool breeze
coming down the trees,
dancing under leaves,
from a heavy gray sky.
In front of me sits a hot cup
of fresh french press coffee.
Little M is resting after a busy morning here
and I too am finding such perfect peace
But on the phone, to a friend, I say "I wish you were here." And I mean it.
But not in the "I wish we could talk for hours,
and do things
and busy ourselves"
sort of way.
Rather "your quiet presence,
on the other end of the couch,"
sort of way.
Isn't a joy divided twice the joy? Something like that.
I like sharing things. My home, conversations, food, time, prayers, burdens, celebrations, joys.
Not to be misconstrued, I love solitude, and I've had my share of it.
But I also love solitude when a companion and I can sit quietly, together, breezes blowing, computers clicking, pages turning or roads passing underneath the tires.
I've been alone in silence with another before and it's felt as though I've been relegated to solitude.
Solitude forced is not a joy.
Solitude shared is bliss.
Happy Friday all.
May you find a quiet soul to split your joys in half with only to watch them grow.