12 March 2015

The Time of My Life

Every moment is charged now. I am doing this or that for the last time. Or contrasting "now" with "24 hours from now". This time next week, for example, I will be packing for a trip to the beach. I am excited.

The mailman brought an armload of goodies today. Contrary to the standard procedure of dropping mail in the mounted box across the street, he brought it to the door today. One of the packages required signature and he needed to inform that my request to have my mail held until I return could not be granted. Since there's more than one person at this address, Holly Springs postal service cannot hold a single occupant's mail.

I was spared hearing his schpiel; Carlton answered the door. "I hate this town," was my response upon hearing. Yes, melodramatic. I know.

Among the goodies, this new sweatshirt. Perfectly timed arrival as only minutes before I'd be deliberating which jacket or sweater to carry with me.

The envelope requiring signature contained cut paper art from Y, touching note written in his inimitable handwriting and a monetary contribution toward the trip. My heart exploded. This is the fifth time in the last month I've experienced a soaring conviction, a total body and mind certainty, that I am not alone in the universe and I am loved.

This does not happen every day. This doesn't even happen every month. The common features among these five occurrences:
  • a person reaching out to me
  • that person allowing me to see them, sharing their thought and feeling
In three cases, I was given a material gift. All five instances involved uttering or writing the word "love".


Today is packing day. As has traditionally been my way, I am packing light. One large suitcase to be checked at the airport and a new tote large enough to carry both the essentials from my purse and my laptop. It pleases me immeasurably to be carrying goods that I will leave in Brazil:  some medicine for my host, a baby carrier I will mail to new friends in Brazil once I arrive, Y's cut paper pieces that will hang and gift while I'm there. Fun to think of how those spaces in minha mala will be filled for the return trip to U.S.

A little nervous about the Portuguese. I am nowhere near fluent (correspondence with my hosts in Rio de Janeiro point up just how far from fluent I am...) but my learning is already accelerating:  I am on the email guest list for a party on Sunday in Rio Claro and have learned and used new words to RSVP.

Several people have wished me "the time of your life." The wish is already coming true.