Of the better parts of 2008 was the summer, even though we did not know it. The obscurity that resulted from the big life change of graduation had left us with no money, no clarity, and time to use our imaginations. We were settling down in the unknown in anticipation for the permanent, and on our worst days that left us in abject horror. Plans, plans, plans, with predictable outcomes and expected fulfillment, is what drove us to the edge of insanity and back while we navigated through our education, endured existential breakdowns, and befriended those who we would want to be in our weddings some day. But those plans were suddenly absent from our lives, their sweet comfortable structures as reassuring as those parts of childhood we cling to in our memories. Snatched from our hands with considerable violence, we lost our perspective and sense of direction--up was no long right, good no longer west.
But, we had learned to be resilient. We could be given $3 and make our day's meals; we could be given three hours and create a thesis. So when we were given life with no direction, we filled it with each other: weekly dinners together, evening reading time at coffee shops, theological discussions over a pint, job hunting in each other's living rooms, creative dinner parties, back yard reflections with a smoke. Small excursions distracted us from the fact we weren't escaping from anything. Journeys into the heart and world of a masterpiece helped rebuild meaning in our own. Prayers over meals, smiles and laughter because we were all in this together.
And, then, suddenly, we weren't; some of us found full-time employment that sparked excitement in our hearts, and some found their hearts were best to roam elsewhere. We started to fill our lives with the stability we were yearning for rather than each other, and it took awhile to notice the absence. That the colors that surrounded us seemed less vibrant--that the beauty of life in somewhat less compelling when you can't point it out to someone else.
