Miss J.

So, my darling Miss J. came to visit me last night. I stayed in bed, under my big peach blanket, and she sat at my bedside in a little green chair. I was glad she came by, because it seems like a millions years since the last time I talked to her, just girl to girl. We have these sprawling conversations that cover everything in a fine coat of discussion. The places where the discussion pools, she's happy to linger there with you, to explore the underlying landscape, to help you see the shape of hidden things. I'm more an more convinced that your best friends are the ones who can remind you of your best self, who love everything about you, but know your best parts and can tell them back to you when you've forgotten. The Old Man says*:

You know, if you've a friend whom you really trust and from whom you want nothing but good, you should mix your soul with his and exchange gifts, go and see him often.

"You should mix your soul with his." God, you can tell that One's a poet. That's so nice. And isn't it just exactly right? The best times are when you feel like you're mixing some vital part of yourself with someone who trusts and likes you enough to do the same. *Have I not convinced you yet to love the Havamal? If not, what's wrong with you?