Tonight I took a bath. Not to get clean, but to soak out sore muscles. To pause and enjoy the stillness. If you must know, I indulged with blue chamomile and lavender bath salts, an IPA in a chilled glass (as always), Ray LaMontagne, a candle orange as a harvest moon and glimmering on the still water.

Listening to the precise breathiness of Ray’s voice, I got to thinking.  We had moved back to the west coast from the midwest just a year ago, sharing a rental truck with then-aquaintences Pete & Jane. I remember showing up at their sweet little Minneapolis house in dirty shorts and a tank top from Honduras that was surely one size too small. We loaded their stuff and enjoyed a nice picnic on their back lawn and that was that.

A couple thousand miles later, we dropped off their stuff and went on to our own unpacking.

It wasn’t more than a couple weeks, though, before we started getting together for dinners, enjoying lingering evenings of perfect conversation. It became a rarity that a week would go by without a meal together and soon the acquaintances were the best of friends.

Elle and I have had our little boy River in our lives for 12 days (if you don’t count the pregnancy), but already I can’t imagine the world without him. The same has happened with Pete & Jane, and it wouldn’t have happened without the serendipitous move to the same place at the same time.

While I’m still a bit exhausted from today’s long haul, I’m thankful for the good things that come when you least expect them. And I’m glad to know that some of those things linger even when you’re a little further away.