Joined Over Hollandaise

There was this moment during our Savannah breakfast outing -- the one planned around my desire for eggs Benedict -- when the spirit of friendship manifested in an almost physical presence at the table. I looked across the expanse of brightly colored coffee mugs, plates of fruit, smoked salmon and poached eggs, and discovered a mother, teary eyed and beaming, leaning into the embrace of her grinning daughter. Having just experienced my own emotional inner quaking, I was surprised at what I saw in this tableau. She shared her story of how this loving child had told her how very pleased she was that her mom had these good friends in her life. This gem of truth had embedded itself instantly. Hence the tears.

In an almost simultaneous broadcast, my communion with this truth had come as I listened to my fellow Earth Diva sitting next to me in our booth. What the actual conversation was, I do not recall. What I remember is my appreciation of her as I watched her profile of brow and nose and mouth shape the words and express the tone of our talk. A sudden wash of affection engulfed my entire being, warming me from the inside out. I felt the urge to cry as my mind filled with this one big heart thought, "I really love these women." My gratitude at having stumbled upon this balance of chemistry and personality with three other unique ladies and their families (the daughter is an Earth-Diva-In-Training) felt suddenly as right as a perfect Spring rain.

It solidified a bond which had been growing between us, those at the table and the lone friend unable to make this trip, with a clear and satisfying snap. As if the final joints and edges in a fine piece of handcrafted furniture were dovetailed into place, never to be undone again. The end result is a thing of obvious beauty, all at once fully functional and given to a familiar comfort. A solid structure of complex angles and deceptively simple unions that will endure the years with grace, taking on a patina with age that will only increase its value and enhance its appearance.

Only a Master Craftsman could have planned and completed such a construction as this.

I see myself curled on this chair or leaning over this table, reading or writing or gaming, for years to come. Only the softest of dusting rags with quality orange oil polish will ever come into contact with its surface in gentle concentric motions. Our reflections will settle permanently into the grain of the wood, each of us a knot or a whorl of character and interest.

It will never end up in a yard sale.