my delight

FullSizeRender (4) The shop was really quiet.

Granted, it was 8:00am in the morning.  So, chances are, folks [including me] were waking up slow over a cup of a coffee.

But today was different.  Today we were loud and giggly and joyful.  Today, we seemed to forget everyone around us was real quiet and we shouted and moved around and made lots of noise.

I mean, we weren't exactly shouting.  We were just making a lot more noise than everyone else. And normally, I am so mindful of a space, of blending in, of following what other folks are doing.

And sometimes, that's exactly what we should do.  I mean, we shouldn't be yapping on our phone during a movie or play.

But for some reason, I stopped worrying if we were being too loud and just thought, "Friends, I think we've made it."  We've made it to that space I always hoped we'd get too.  One that takes time and commitment and vulnerability.

We've made it to the space where we are really close, where we really get each other, where it's okay to come just as you are.

It's encouraged to laugh really hard in a quiet room.

It's okay to admit it's been a few days since you've showered.

It's welcomed to vent about work and people that test your patience and moments where you feel really awkward.

You can share all of that.  I delight in you and you delight in me.  And those things, they don't define how I see you.

I LOVE this place.  I love it so much.  It makes me giddy and hopeful and childlike.

It reminds me that building community in a place you never expected to land is totally and completely worth it.

It also reminds me of a time when Matthew and I were dating.

We were way passed the just getting to know you stage, but, I wouldn't say we had arrived to the place I described above.  We liked each other and all, we celebrated our differences [and bickered over those differences] but we still held back a little.

I remember standing by my car in the parking deck.  It was a Sunday.  I didn't particularly like Sundays while were dating.  The whole long distance thing made Sundays hard because it meant saying goodbye.

I lurv Sundays now.

Any who, we were standing there, facing each other, the moon was full and bright.  I always did like this part - the part leading up to a smooch.  Can you feel the romance?

Matthew leaned in, ever so sweet and slow, to give me a kiss and..

FART.

Yes.

He farted.

Then he shrugged his shoulders, laughed, and gave me the smooch anyways.

And before you think I am completely bizarre and crazy to go there [maybe I am], to switch from a sweet coffee date with girlfriends to a, uh, fart.

Hear me out.

Because as silly as it sounds, as bizarre as it all might seem, I thought, in that moment, "Yup. We have arrived."

FINALLY.

We are real people.  We're people who make mistakes and sometimes don't know what to say and forget to call each other back and say things we don't mean.  We're people who fart. [If you dislike that word, my apologies - I'm done:)]

We're people who bust a move in the kitchen, only to trip over our own feet. We're people who cry during and after a really good Hallmark movie.  We're people who get really attached to characters in books and shows and wonder, "Are they doing okay??"

We're people who send photos like this to their husband while he's out of town for work.

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Maybe it's the warmer weather and lighter days.  Maybe it's the changing seasons, one from turning inward to the other pushing out and through.

I'm not sure what it is, but lately, I've been aching for the unfiltered and the un-staged.

Don't get me wrong, I love a good photo of freshly baked bread or bowl of soup on instagram. For reals.  I really, really do.

But more than all of that, I crave to see and share and tell what's happening during the in between.

The part after a really good homemade meal.  Where you're just left feeling so full and grateful you sort of get quiet and stare at the one you love from across the table.

The part during an argument where you finally let go of needing to be right and just decide - this it isn't worth the fight.  Want to make up instead?

Maybe it's my love for stories and the simple.  Maybe it's my fascination with people and where they're headed and where they've been.

I'm really not sure.

All I know is that Wednesday was good and raw and full.  And I didn't have to do a thing to make that happen.

Sometimes we just gotta come to the table as we are - bruised, giddy, sleepy, overly caffeinated and grateful.  And welcome others to do the same.

Because when we do, it's really delightful.