Random Thoughts That Must Out

I love French this evening because it lets me talk with my neighbors.  It lets me feel part of something bigger, different worlds, new histories.  I love that this discovery requires effort.

I saw a fascinating man yesterday.  He had long greying hair and full beard with twinkling eyes.  You couldn't see his mouth but his moustache moved when he talked and smiled.  He must have been in his late 60s, but he had the body of a 30-something-year-old cowboy, complete with the fluid gait and the impressive biceps.  I must have been staring at him, but he was so interesting to look at!

Last night Bruno, Kate, Sebastien, and I went to a harp concert in Peillac.  We walked home at dusk, just as the first stars were starting to peek out.  We were laughing and joking about the concert and things in general, and I felt like part of a great love, like there was nothing missing in my soul.  We sang as we strolled down the hill, and we waltzed to "Love One Another" while Sebastien tried out some harmonies.  It was a moment when age and language meant nothing.  Time and space were just details.  And I didn't waste any of my attention on hoping it would never end.  That is such a futile gesture.  I just was. 

My weaving muscles are growing.  I found a rhythm.  The shuttle doesn't fall much and the batten isn't nearly as heavy anymore!  I have repaired dozens of broken warp threads, though.  That gets old quick.  Bruno says it teaches me patience.  I say it teaches me to use a stronger warp next time.

I am not good at hiding my feelings.  This has never been more evident than in the case of cherries in cherry season in Bretagne.  And apparently, when people see me eat cherries with undisguised relish, it makes them want to bring me more!  Dominique kept filling the bowl of cherries and encouraging me to eat them when I was at their house for the weekend.  Some random lady that we picnicked with after church on Sunday gave me all of the leftover cherries (why there were leftover cherries is seriously beyond my comprehension).  And Aymeric, when I saw him for the last time this evening, filled my pockets with cherries as a parting gift.  He had seen a cherry tree on his bike ride home and thought of me.  It's pretty wonderful.