For the morning, we walk alongside each other and take pictures in the small town where I grew up. His father and his brother look on. They encourage us. They wait patiently, even as it begins to rain. He’s smiling and laughing and I see a glimmer of joy. The chill in the air is invigorating. The change of scenery washes over him, leaving him refreshed and shining. He holds his camera up, framing first one scene then the other. He looks at me, and I know what he’s trying to say. I don’t have the answers. I still feel overwhelmed by sadness at times. My problems are not fixed. There is no easy way out. I have my work cut out for me. But I will continue even when it feels easier to just give up.

Peace floods my heart and I feel the deepest tenderness for him, my youngest son.

 

I drive through downtown Orange about once a month on the way to and from a medical appointment in Charlottesville. On my last two trips in October and November the weather was unseasonably warm. I noticed a gentleman sitting in a lawn chair outside his Barber Shop, waving to passers-by. I waved back. Each time I tried to work up the courage to stop and talk, maybe take a photograph. Both times, my confidence wavered and I drove on.

For my December visit, there was snow on the ground. I seriously doubted the barber would sit outside in this weather. Still, I drove by, looking for his friendly smile and wave. And there he was! Standing inside, peering out through the large picture window of his shop, waving at me. I pulled over and parked my car in a nearby shopping center lot. Bundled up, I walked down the street, carrying my camera. When I reached his shop, I stood across the street and waved to him. I pointed to my camera and pantomimed some expression of “May I take your picture?”. He nodded, yes, and I snapped a few frames.

Then the barber exited his shop. He watched the traffic patiently and when the course was clear, he motioned for me to cross the busy Madison Road. We went inside his shop where he welcomed me with kindness, and introduced himself as Sonny. He showed me an article from the local newspaper about him, a beacon of small-town warmth, and his business, the longest running self-employed business, over 40 years, in the county.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this picture. Maybe I’m projecting my own feelings of quarantine fatigue. But this picture reads as loneliness to me. How many of us are waving and waiting for someone to visit?

“The shame of loneliness feels like the shame of hunger, of want, of admitting you cannot feed yourself. This is not an epidemic, but a famine”. —Claire Bushey, Loneliness and Me

 

“The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.” — Paulo Coelho

I am blessed by wise friends who show me a better way.

They’ve taught me the skills required for solid friendships. They remind me that darkness gives way to light. They listen, even when I get carried away. They see and believe in my innate goodness and forgive my faults. They fill me up and send me out into the world to love and learn and help. I try to do the same for them.

In this season of gift-giving, hemmed in by fear and isolation, the gift we need most is friendship. To each friend I say with my whole heart, I love you dearly and I wish you a lovely Christmas and a fresh new year.