Dear Frank,

Let me tell you what happened today. It started out rather unremarkably, but by the time evening had come, I felt that three lovely jewels had been placed in my hand.  Frank, though I’m persuaded to tell it all in one lengthy, (depends on your definition) robustly detailed way, I’ll get to telling it as compendiously 🤓 as possible.

For the past several years I’ve been carrying around a regret about two people who had once been an important part of my life. They’re truly lovely people and have shown me such genuine kindness and friendship. I’d allowed myself to drift away from that friendship. It had been one of those inexplicable things we sometimes do, allowing time and distance to grow between ourselves and people who deserve better. And the longer it went on, the harder it became to know quite how to put it right.

So, I wrote a note. I wanted them to know that I remembered their kindness and valued them, and that I was sorry I hadn’t done a better job of showing it. But first, I felt compelled to call, and they were so sweet, telling me repeatedly that I didn’t owe them an explanation and that I certainly needn’t write a note. But I disagreed. I said that I needed to say more and that I wanted to drop by with the note.

I changed clothes, put on some blush and lipstick, pushed my hair back with my sunglasses, and off I went. I received a welcome so special that I nearly cried. Actually, I did cry. When I walked in, they both stopped what they were doing and came toward me with enormous smiles, embracing me. Their sweet dog joined in, returning again and again to greet me, apparently determined not to be left out of the reunion. Don’t cry, they said. But sometimes a few tears are simply what happens when kindness catches you off guard. Just like that, something that had weighed on my heart for so long had become something entirely different. A good friendship, lost, was gathered up and given back.

Later, I told Bess about it and she was so glad I went to them. But she also had something to tell me, something that delighted us both. Our Charles, who at 9 years old has become quite the bedtime reader, has developed a wonderfully sophisticated new way of expressing himself. He’s begun using the word “though” almost as a conversational pivot, bridging, as if to say, “But here’s something important you haven’t considered.” Bess said the boys were arguing over who was best at sports. Charles pointed out to her that “everyone seemed to think offense was all that mattered, though you could never win a game without a good defense.” We both loved it. And I particularly loved that his little linguistic habit revealed something about the way he thinks, not just the way he speaks. While the other boys were busy arguing about who was best, Charles was considering something. He was looking at it all from another angle, recognizing that the less celebrated players might be just as important to winning the game.

Naturally, I began trying it myself. And I discovered that using “though” in this way required more thought than my typical method of blindly forging ahead. It made me pause to consider. The more I tried it, the more lofty and succinct I felt. My posture even improved. I was beginning to sound positively literary.

In the evening, feeling wonderfully happy with the day’s unexpected treasures, I picked out a movie, choosing Persuasion, the 2022 version of Jane Austen’s novel. Oh boy, what a movie. The houses and fabrics, the stair runner! And the delightful, slightly outrageous modern humor woven through all that English elegance. Anne Elliot’s little glances toward the camera and her dry observations were the most fun to watch. Her complexion is flawless so I immediately got up and applied a moisturing, refining masque. By the time it ended, she and I were buddies, thought alike, and I’d declared it my favorite movie ever.

Then, something occurred to me. Persuasion is, at its heart, a story about people who have allowed something precious to slip away. It’s about the passage of time, the things left unsaid, and the possibility that what seemed lost might not be lost after all. I had spent my afternoon recovering a friendship, and by evening, falling in love with a story about recovering love. Somewhere in the midst of all this, as I propped up my pillow on the pallet I’d made on the floor (favorite way to watch a movie) I realized how easily we can give importance to things that don’t really deserve it.

Perhaps that’s what happens when life fills up with things of genuine value. The trivial things don’t need to be fought off. They simply become smaller. Though I had begun the day with a heavy heart, by the time the day ended, I had recovered a treasured friendship, discovered a delightful new way of expressing a thought, thanks to an adorable 9 year old, and fallen in love with a story about second chances. The loveliest part was that I hadn’t recognized the connection until afterward. Life had already written the story before I realized there was one.

Isn’t that cool, Frank?  
Yep, it’s pretty cool  

P.S.  Some may dismiss the mushy, lovely moments in life as sentimental, though I think they’re among the very best things life has to offer! 😍