Sitting on the couch looking out at evergreens and gray sky. The microwave beeping at me to let me know my oatmeal is ready. The cat sitting on a chair staring at me, telling me she’s ready for any food I might pass her way.
I hear the furnace blower forcing hot air up through the vents, the microwave letting me know breakfast is ready, a car passing by. But there are no other voices, except the cat’s occasional cry. No radio on, no music. There have been times when I’d get up in the morning and turn on NPR or a morning talk show on TV. But these days I crave silence in the morning. Later, after work, I’ll turn on the TV or cue up a video, tap into Pandora, call up a friend for a long rambling chat. But mornings, I want to just be. To wake up slowly, let my mind drift, let the world emerge. I told myself I’d let writing percolate this week, but the bubbles are rising slowly, without much energy.
What’s one word you carry from the weekend? the Facebook post asked. Community was the first word that came to mind. Weekends are when I spend time with my friendship community—routines of contact that weave a strong web of connection—Saturday coffee with one friend; errand running and conversation with another; time spent standing on the town common with another, taking a stand about the doings in Washington; regular phone calls with another friend. Casual, ordinary, essential.
Our conversations touch on dailiness, the rough grain of our lives, the many small ways we get by, the moments when we thrive. Updates on friends and family members, commiseration on politics and the state of the world, shared strategies for coping or resisting or venting, new streaming videos to watch, books to read, movies to see. At times the talk meanders into deeper territory—a health fear, the indignities or frustrations of getting older, a wondering about purpose, about calling, how to live in our messed up and beautiful world.
And writing this I see that the connection and the silence feed each other, that each gives me a different kind of strength, and that both are essential, especially in these difficult and contentious times.
At Home on Harlow 
I remember those days well. What fun!