I've been thinking about my life,
and how somethings are not straightforward and how
my Husband, thank God, is my best friend but how I left Ottawa
where I had probably the most friends and community I ever had,
outside of 5 years in BC in my undergraduate years.
I have had, outside of my Husband, one friend for 3 years
who could come over during the day and who I could talk
to about things that really mattered; while she was not an
Orthodox Christian, she is a Christian and we had a really good friendship.
She moved away twice since leaving here and now lives in the UK
with her husband and now one year old son.
My dear quilting-friend.
I have a community here, various friends on various levels and
obviously have various people over for dinner parties or a Saturday lunch;
and I am very grateful for this;
but I have few people who I can see during the day;
and my days are busy; it all is what it is.
My work is at home, as in as a homemaker.
I have had to accept that in ways I will probably always feel
a loneliness and a sense of exile in my life;
but I am also learning that this is part of life
and to keep loving others for who they are, for where they are and
even if they can't be what I had before in terms of friends,
they are still ones to love, ones to be friends with and ones
who care about me and who I care about.
My Husband says to me often a phrase he heard years ago:
one is not really friends until they have eaten a pound of salt between them.
As in many meals shared.
And in where I live, where almost everyone works, everyone is highly scheduled,
and those with kids have a very different life with 'play dates' or such that had no
real reality when I was a kid, or perhaps when they (the parents of today) were children.
So the pound of salt can take many years or, in many cases, never be had.
And that's just the way it is here.
I am thankful though for what I do have and that things are slowly building
in terms of community and that all is not lost,
even the grains of salt eaten with others, years ago...