On Sunday evening I stood in the doorway of our kitchen, which leads out to the deck. The sun was dropping behind Point Loma and the planes roared over our roof every few minutes. It felt like summer, like fiesta, like I would combust from gratitude for the past few days.
After a week of morning fog, we got California’s winter best: a hot day with clarity and freshness you’ll never feel during summer. It was startling enough that Davis got me out of bed on Saturday morning (with the lure of coffee) to walk to the cliffs and see the surf. Best friends got engaged, two people who are meant for each other. Parents came to visit, parents who are both family and friends. I walked up to Balboa Park in the evening with a book & blanket in hand, surprised at my contentedness. I didn’t feel like thrashing through tasks or scattered by responsibilities. The tasks and responsibilities were there, but they were obscured under the shadows cast by late-afternoon sun. True rest comes when you can forget what's pressing and just sink into what's needed.
It’s taken me a while to get comfortable alone. I used to crave moments by myself, but the past few years have brought an off-and-on loneliness that tricked the joy away from solitude. Loneliness will do that - make you fear being alone which, as everyone knows, is not the same as being lonely. So when I stood on the deck on Sunday evening, the sensation of contentedness was the most welcome warmth.
