life is all right

by Bella Rum

Yesterday, I poked around in my archives. I’ve written A LOT about sleep or not sleeping or aberrant sleeping or insufficient sleep. Sometimes I just do a short paragraph at the beginning of a post about how poorly I slept or how little I slept or a weird nightmarish/flailing about/screaming sleeping experience. And then there were the dreams. I can’t believe someone hasn’t told me, “Enough already. We don’t care about the time someone broke into your house and spilled all your cotton swabs or when angels came down from the heavens and they all looked like Meg Ryan or how you learned you could sculpt your bikini-clad body any way you wished by moving the invisible lines, or the time President and Mrs. Bush visited your aunt.”

So, just for the record (isn’t there a record?), I slept very well last night. In fact, I had a splendid day yesterday. The entire day. I ran a bazillion errands and accomplished almost everything on my list. I did all this while talking a mile a minute to H. I couldn’t shut up. I felt almost manic: tons of energy, spending money left and right, feelings of euphoria. Okay, not euphoria, but pretty darned good.

While H was standing in line to check out at Trader Joe’s, I walked over to the Life Is Good store. I saw a “half full” t-shirt. I opined that I’d never found a shirt or hat that declared “half empty” for folks like me, that half the human race was not represented. She said, “Well the name of the company is Life Is Good, not Life Is All Right.” Point taken, but some people strive for all right. For some people, all right is… well… all right.


A friend called and wanted to come over last night. We ordered barbecue and drank wine and talked for hours. We talk on the phone three or four times a week, but we haven’t laid eyes on one another in months. She lives just across town and works only fifteen minutes from my house, but we’ve both been incredibly busy. We talked about that, we talked about the kids, the grandkids, hair, health, the need to get in shape and the heavy demands that have recently been placed on us. We’ve been friends for forty-four years. There’s nothing like a friend you don’t have to reinvent the wheel for. They have all the background, and they know what’s over there in that shadowy corner. No need to shine a light on it or look for a broom. They know.

We sat on the deck until long after dark. H brought an oscillating fan out. It provided a slight breeze and kept the mosquitoes away. It was all so easy and relaxing and restorative. It was what we all need when our lives get a little bruised. Like a mother’s kiss, it made it all better for a while. I heartily recommend a long talk with an old friend on an end-of-summer evening. If you can get it, take it.