My introvert friend Jan nests.
She prefers her home, feathered with her craft room, dark chocolate splotched dog, and partner living a challenging life with Parkinson's.
Recently moving from a larger house to this smaller spot, Jan seems more content; as if having responsibility for less space makes her feel more protected.
She reminds me of a bird, Jan does; content in her migrations between her nest and unknown perches for those she loves. She knows she is loved, with deep, flourishing roots in family and community. Her sons grew from chubby cheeks and sweet eyes into men of character of kind eyes and solid handshakes. Her partner built a nest, and they weathered storms together. Now he wraps her in wings of a deeper affection.
And I, with my wild hare-like existence, shared her perch for a night.
Jan likes the impersonal serenity of motel rooms, and asked me to spend the night with her this last Friday. Her oldest competed last weekend in Georgetown, just outside of Austin. She drove south that morning from Dallas, roughly 3 1/2 hours of travel along a major highway under construction. One way.
Because for her, being present shows love. But for me, she is a lovely thing with feathers.
She prefers her home, feathered with her craft room, dark chocolate splotched dog, and partner living a challenging life with Parkinson's.
Recently moving from a larger house to this smaller spot, Jan seems more content; as if having responsibility for less space makes her feel more protected.
She reminds me of a bird, Jan does; content in her migrations between her nest and unknown perches for those she loves. She knows she is loved, with deep, flourishing roots in family and community. Her sons grew from chubby cheeks and sweet eyes into men of character of kind eyes and solid handshakes. Her partner built a nest, and they weathered storms together. Now he wraps her in wings of a deeper affection.
And I, with my wild hare-like existence, shared her perch for a night.
Jan likes the impersonal serenity of motel rooms, and asked me to spend the night with her this last Friday. Her oldest competed last weekend in Georgetown, just outside of Austin. She drove south that morning from Dallas, roughly 3 1/2 hours of travel along a major highway under construction. One way.
Because for her, being present shows love. But for me, she is a lovely thing with feathers.
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