Did you ever read the Ramona Quimby books by Beverly Cleary? My favorite scene is Ramona’s first day of kindergarten, where the teacher instructs her to “sit here for the present.” She is sorely disappointed to go home that day not having unwrapped a gift.
Here are some of the gifts I’ve unwrapped so far this summer: the discovery of a friend’s carefully tended apple orchard begun some 35 years ago (a story behind every lovingly grafted tree) — with apples of astonishing varieties and flavors (have you ever bitten into an apple that tasted exactly like sunshine?); listening to a dozen old friends’ weekly old-time music concert on a Friday night on a generous screened-in porch seemingly built for this very occasion (first: they could record professionally; second, the host family’s grandfather, in advanced Alzheimer’s, who sometimes sees spirits, insisted I was “Diane” and suddenly I had a perfect sense of my mother’s presence — she was young, slim, in her 30s, short hair, on a camping trip, feet up in the hammock, hands behind her head, with a look of bliss on her face to hear the music — and then, she was dancing a jig, just to make sure I understood the cause of her joy); getting walloped by a very large tree branch snapping back as it was held out of the way to open the road admist a thunderstorm (neck injury as I slammed backwards into the ground, plus a huge purple bruise on my backside — a clear message to Stop! a fretful course of action that was consuming me that day — happily, there was just enough water in the well for a shower to wash off the road debris and clean all wounds before the lack of electricity signified no more running water for 24 hours); time and again, hearing from friends exactly the message I needed to go on with a wise heart. Thank you, my very dear friends, for sharing your journeys. Life is meant to be lived in community, and I am oh so very grateful for our walking together.