I wonder what the world would be like if we didn’t have each other to learn from. What would a day look like without anything being passed from one person to another?
As I sit alone in my office, day after day, it’s easy to imagine that I could go it alone. That I could get up each day, write my books, go to bed at night and start it all over again. I can shop from my computer. I can pay bills from computer. My checks are delivered to me. I might have to venture out to the grocery store every now and then. But I could survive.
And then I look around me. I’ve surrounded myself with the things that fill up my spirit. That feed my soul. And I am brought up short. I could no more go it alone then I could walk on water. I’m human. With far more precious needs than food, water, and a roof over my head. My heart and soul need the give and take with other hearts and souls to nourish it from moment to moment. From day to day. Week to week. Year to year.
My phone beeps a text message. My cousin. She contacts me pretty much every single morning. And has for years. Not just for a time, or something she might try for a while, but something that has been ongoing for many years. Before text messaging she emailed every day. That is what feeds my soul as I sit alone.
That picture up there…the cornucopia. It’s on a shelf to my right. My mother made that. She made another one just like it and I loved it and was so impressed by her talent and ability and wanted to have it forever, to remind me everything good about her for the rest of my days and then she donated the thing to her church boutique and it sold within the first minutes and I was really and truly sad. Until I opened a Christmas present and there was another one – made by her loving hands, just for me.
There are pictures all around me. From fifty years ago. From this morning. And many moment in between. Snippets of memories. Of love. There’s a photo of my daughter right in front of my computer screen, between the keyboard and the screen. There are pictures to the left, to the right, and behind me, too, for when I turn around. I look at them every time I glance away from the work in progress.
I stop work for a moment to go out on Facebook and Pinterest and Twitter. I have messages and notices, people who have shared tidbits of themselves with me, who welcome me into the minutes of their lives.
And then my insistent little princess starts tossing the cable cord with her nose. over and over and over again. She wants my attention. Her big brother comes out of the laundry room carrying an unmentionable. The phone rings. It’s Tim.
And I realize that I don’t go it alone at all. Not even a little bit. And I am very thankful.