F is for friend

Recently I had the need for a few quick birthday cards, for a young male teen and a one year old, that I didn't have time to make myself. (Where has time gone recently?)  I was nowhere near the small shops that I can count on for beautiful, thoughtful greetings. I was near a large card and party store and so, "needs must," I took my chances. Scanning the shelves of cards, lots and lots of them, I felt as if I were being assaulted. Ugly often suggestive illustrations, base puns, and not very cheerful notes inside. Even the "funny" cards were questionable. Either that, or they were so saccharine sweet you'd gag reading them.
I did find blah cards that would suffice, sadly chosen because of my lack of foresight, and not at all representative of me or what the recipients mean to me. But it got me to thinking about how I tell people what they mean to me. Not only family, but the many lovely people in my life who give my days depth and dimension though I spend so much of my time alone.

Maybe it is because my days are mostly quiet that thoughts come to me frequently of so many dear friends. This morning while mixing my favorite cranberry muffins, I let my mind dwell on Diana, whose recipe I used. She and I often spent time together while I was raising my children, a woman's circle colleague, a member of my Jung study coterie, a fellow cross stitch nut (her work is exquisite) a fellow bell ringer, someone who appreciated Jerome's organ and choir work at out church nearly as much as I did. Our lives do not intersect as they once did. Sad. Perhaps it would lift her to know that today I sent healing energy her way and felt blessed to know her.
Each of you who read this post should know that I hold you dear and count myself extraordinarily lucky that you are in my life through this marvel of technology. Perhaps having read it you may give thought to sending a "real" note to someone who means something special to you. I hope you do.