I have a beautiful life filled with beautiful friends.  They decided to surprise me with a home remodel for my kitchen and bath.  They are supplying the labor and most of the materials “free of charge.”

They say it is a gift to me because I bring them kindness and kindness to others.

I am crying when I write this.  I have been crying for days.

I wonder about me and my problems.  I think a part of me believes I don’t deserve kindness.  I am use to working for everything on my own.  Kindness, well—it brings on it’s own form of guilt.  Little is handed to me and when it is I hate it.  I feel vulnerable, scared and weak.  It is hard for me to be offered help and truly accept it.  Overtime I find I expect harsh words and bad behavior.  I am surprised when people honor their words.  It is easier to expect to be disappointed.  It’s that Waterford vase hitting a tile floor.   Everyone seems to change their minds over time.  I have that dustpan and broom right there in my corner.

I am usually suspicious of kindness.  I am suspicious of kind words. There is no altruism and it just doesn’t exist.  I am looking at myself and my own soul.  If demons and creatures live inside of me–well I know they must lurk in others.  They cannot be dismissed or ignored.  They exist even when I keep mine in check.  I know what I see in the humanity that surrounds me.

My internal battle with the world rages in my heart and my head.
My girls are simply thrilled and ecstatic of the changes that are occurring.

I cry even harder.

This kindness extends to them and they deserve every drop of this world’s kindness.

These people, who are my friends, are truly kind and good.  They have their own struggles and they take a moment to help me with mine.

Katie comes into my room late and night.  She knows I am crying.  She sits next to me and shows me with her words what this is.

A good omen that I need to face and accept.  We are loved because we are loving and beautiful people.  It is as simple as that.

I am crying even harder.

I cannot repay these people who have come into my life.  They see my weak and desperate moments.  They see all of me and they raid my fridge and sit in my kitchen.  They hold out their hands and they want to be my friend.
They are getting rid of the old and ugly.
They see what this can become.

I can write words in chalk on my kitchen back splash.
They know my love of words and outdoor cafes.
I want to share my home and my flowers.  I want these people in my life.
I care what happens to them.  I don’t want any of them to disappear.

He has some big and important decisions to make.  When he tells me this I feel that same sinking feeling.  The kind I felt as a child when I discovered I was going to have to change schools or move.  My heart tells me there is hope.  My mind is practical and sees the world otherwise.
This good and kind man is not looking at others.  He doesn’t tell me what I should do.  He doesn’t tell me what I should be.  He makes me think. I feel no pressure. I don’t feel I want to run away.  He doesn’t suggest or promise and then change his mind.  He doesn’t tell me I should date other people.  He doesn’t appear to need any space.

I think of Hemingway and of a Clean Well Lighted Place.  I want another cup of coffee.
I don’t want the night or the moment to end.

And I already know I am missing him before I could ever start.


I finish my work day full of stress, problems and worry.  I enter the newness of my kitchen.
I write them notes in chalk letting them know how much I cherish and love them.

I know life is too short to let things go unloved.  I know life is too short to let lovely words go unsaid.