Waking

It's late in the day. I should get up but the siren song of my bed is strong.
The offer of food hangs over me. I don't know why, but I have this feeling of dread about it. Maybe because I feeling like I'm taking advantage. Or maybe I just feel like I'm going to be barging in to a crowded restaurant taking up someone else's valuable time.
I check the hours, and at about 1 I finally pull some clothes on and go.
And I am so happy I did.
I'm always nervous to sit by myself. I'm afraid everyone is looking at me, and the lack of something to do makes it painfully obvious that I'm alone. But my invitation comes to chat with me and it's not so painful. I forget that people can be genuinely interested in my life and what I have to say.
It suddenly hits me while I'm sitting there, coffee in hand. I'm looking out the wide windows in the front of the restaurant, a beautiful almost summer day starting back at me. Everything green. I realize I need to only make time in my life for the things that make me happy.
And plenty of things make me happy.
Sitting under a pergola, smelling honeysuckle and listening to salsa guitar. I'm drinking Spanish red wine, looking out at an evening that I can't believe is real. How did I find this place? How did I get welcomed in so fast? I suspect it has a little to do with the mozzarella and potato croquettes I fried earlier this evening.
Sunday mornings. Drinking mimosas and eating brunch. Surrounded by 20-odd ladies who came together just to be ladies and drink. Our gender for once strangely bonding us together instead of tearing us apart. I wish more days could be like this, where we as women don't bring each other down. God knows men do that enough for us already.
Skyping with my best friend. Because in my hearts of hearts, no matter how long we go without talking, I know she still understands me inside and out and will always be there for me. A woman that time and distance will never be less to me. How odd that we should find ourselves 8 years down the road still spending the last minutes of the year together, every year. Ready to bring on the new.
Reading a good book, and sharing it with others. Just in general sharing with others.
Knowing people who care for me, with no possible gain for them. Besides the pleasure of my company. It reminded me of this passage I wrote as a reflection for the Bennion Center. The reason I loved community service so much, I think, was because I met so many people with an open heart. People bound together to do for others, and in turn, for each other.

“The Service House is one of the unique communities in Officers Circle. Most houses are connected by a discipline, which is nice because like-minded people can be together; but those people may
be forced to be in academic competition with each other. The Service House is unique because we were joined by the common bond of service. We were connected by our love of others and our
desire to do good for others. Our diverse academic and social backgrounds allowed us to grow in ways we might not have otherwise. Because of our sensitivity towards others, we were
always there for each other, both for the good times and when things got a little tough. Caring is the fabric of our house, and it wound us closely together, giving us experiences we will never
forget. It made us very strong as a community, allowed us to work together towards common service goals and have lots of fun. Our house was our safe place, our haven.”