The Inbetween Times

Nov 10

MeredithUncategorized , , , No Comments

Stina

Have you ever known a person who had an amazing ability to help you put your life into perspective? For me, that person is my friend Stina, who I worked with at the Daily Press in Silver City, NM.

Stina dropped by for a week during her year-long travels around North America. She spent some time up in Canada and is now working her way down the East coast. Ave and I looked forward to her stop, and did our best to show her a bit of Baltimore while she was here, from Hampden to the Inner Harbor. But my favorite parts of the visit were the mornings in the kitchen, with uncounted cups of tea and a steady stream of conversation.

Stina has an uncanny ability to bring me ’round to a new way of seeing things. She listened as I ranted and grumbled about all the things that were bothering me. Then, in her quiet way, she’d say something that made me realize just how much good stuff there is in my life. There aren’t words for it exactly, the way she’s able to give me the gift of another perspective, but it’s a powerful thing.

I lucked into a great friend in that unassuming southwestern town, and I’m not sure I truly realized that until this visit. I’ve always admired Stina for her easy ability to befriend strangers and her seemingly fearless approach to life. She was always there to laugh with me and, when others might have begged out,  she let me talk in circles as I worked my problems out.

Stina left yesterday, and when I came home from work our empty house felt especially lonely. But that’s how it is these days, with friends and loved ones scattered around the country. We take the chance to visit when we can, and then we leave, uncertain of when we’ll be together again. And it may seem extra cheesy, but those visits make the inbetween times bearable.

Stina’s back on the road and headed to North Carolina. Check out the stories of her trip at www.stinasieg.com.

Belated morning post

Sep 18

MeredithUncategorized , , No Comments

It’s cold now, in the mornings. Watching steam rise from a mug of tea will become a favorite pastime. At least 20 minutes will be spent in the shower, letting the warm water seep into my body, equalizing my temperature for the first and only time in the day. Fragile light will dance through the windows and across every surface, so thin and so fast. It’s a season of boots and sweaters, jaunty-looking scarves looped around my neck, and hair that stands on end with the dryness of it all. Extra blankets will emerge from deep in the linen closet, turn my bed into a nest of fluff and warmth, the cats curled up next to me at night. I’ll buy new gloves, and for the third year in a row, I’ll think about buying a new coat. Despite its broken zipper and the way it hugs my hips just a little too tightly, like a frightened child, this coat has kept me warm for seven years.