Every so often, we all need a little saving.  Sometimes we can save ourselves, but I've found a remarkable beauty in the self-saving that is inevitably and surreptitiously hidden in the caring for those we love.   Mrs. Clark came with her superman tight-suit tucked under layers of color and patterns, and saved me from a weekend of ominous introspection and way too much trash television.  In a way, I suppose she came to care for me, but thereby cared for herself.  She remembered she is irreplaceable, connected, and sophisticated.    She remembered she is wise, open, healthy, and always at the ready with leg-wear. She made me hummus, made me laugh, made me sit still with magazines; then she made me go to a drag show.

We are both in gestation...on the brink of new women, and we needed to speak to friends connected to all versions of ourselves (past and future included) in order to incorporate them soulfully.  It's hard, confusing, subjective work.  She is strong for the job. So am I, but in part because I have her shoulders to rely on.  And yours.

I have loved solitude.  I will always love solitude.  But you know, it's just another thing that's changing about me.  Hell, I might even start reading Harry Potter and thinking Gaga can write music. My craving for company and the realization of the unmistakable goodness of those enfolding me and in my fold is humbling my independent nature something fierce.  In fact, the only ONLY way I found a road back to peace last week was through other humans.   I was saved by the solidarity and assurance of your human existences, different in circumstance, same in process.