Dear Today (or Yesterday as the case may be), I am thankful you happened.I believe I can confidently say that today was the best Memorial Day I’ve ever had.
The others were fine, but they were just days, the possibility of a break from school or work, and (if I remembered) for remembering people who have served in my place to protect a freedom I take for granted.
(And perhaps I am a horrible person for not remembering, but that is a different blog.)
But today, I remember.
Today, I remember we are broken creatures.
I remember our brokenness is not the end, that we can let the light in through the cracks.
I remember intersections mean that we are coming from different angles.
I remember to be thankful for the crossing.
I remember we must work to sew ourselves to each other.
I remember pulling the threads takes steady fingers and commitment.
I remember that roots are worth it, no matter how temporary.
And these are pretentious and varying metaphors, yet they completely capture my Memorial Day.
Today was made of a few good conversations leading me to all those conclusions.
Tonight, I sat at a picnic table with a woman I should, by all potential intersections, already know but didn’t until two weeks ago.
As the water steadily slapped the rocks and the clouds moved like a slideshow above us, we talked about Ms. Britt and Meredith College, our love for the most beautiful of the Carolinas, the strings that attach us to where we come from and where we’ve been, and the women we believe we’ve always been and are becoming more of everyday.
When I talked about feeling like my strings are tight and the strain hurts, she tilted my perspective.
She reminded me that tight strings make for beautiful melodies and maybe my melody of this time will serve a purpose for someone else.
And maybe that doesn’t sound profound to you, reading this on a screen.
Maybe you need the darkness and streetlights and rock-slapping water to get the full effect, but for me, for tonight, she gave the metaphor a weight I needed to see.
And I remember why I wanted to come here.
It was for conversations like today, for the intentional and genuine curiosity of a stranger that plants the seeds of beautiful friendships.
It was for nights like tonight, where, despite the bugs and the heat and the humidity and the creepers, we were not leaving that fucking bench.
Days like today make me feel more alive and more myself.
And I remember my story is mine, and I choose how to tell it.
Dear Today, I needed you very much.
Love and hope and grace and peace to you on this Tuesday.
May you have days like this, where you write all the details because they are too good for the possibility of forgetting.
Thank you for reading.
PS: To read more of Whitney’s writing, check out her blog.