of things that can be pleasantpublished: 2016-02-29
A phone call. A voice I only very faintly recognise. My memory searches its files.
“2013,” she says, “on the airplane. From New York? The marathon.”
Her voice is friendly and optimistic.
I remember now. We had made a connection, she had run the marathon in order to raise money for her handicapped daughter. I had been impressed by her strength back then, her perseverance, her positivity. I was with my ex. He was the runner, I merely the supporter. I felt weary and useless in their midst.
She tells me that ever since we met she’s been reading my thoughts and stories and that they inspire her. Each of them mean something to her, she says.
Her words fill me with the warmth of things that are pleasant.
Then she explains she is getting married on the island where I was born. And she asks whether I might consider helping her write her vows.
I haven’t written in a while, not here. Not until now.
I suppose I’ve felt a little weary and my writing seemed useless.
And for a brief moment, it no longer does.
She thanks me.
While I need to thank her.