Since my last post about being on the verge of a butterfly summer, the words have dried up and I've tucked right back inside my chrysalis. What's up with that?! I wish I knew.
But yesterday I went for lunch with a new friend. Our conversation wasn't awkward or surface-level or banterish; instead, we cut right to the chase and began to ask each other reflective questions, those soul-searching kinds of questions that might get asked between close friends with a long history together. What's weird is that we didn't mind one another's probing questions; in fact, we seemed to give each other unspoken permission to invade our private lives and our pain--not the kind of new-friend lunch that happens every day. I don't think either of us wanted to return to work, and we took far longer than the middle-of-a-work-day-lunch should take.
As I'm writing this I realize that lunches like this one/new friendships like this--these are butterfly moments. Oh, I didn't think about that during lunch or even last night, and when I returned to work the moment disappeared--I felt completely unbutterfly-ish at work or at home later in the day. Butterfly? Not yet, not so much.
My lunch with this beautiful new friend offers me hope--hope that this new season in my life will bring new shades of color, new variety of flowers, old and new get-real friends who know how to cut through all the surface crap and connect easily, effortlessly.
There's one more butterfly moment. When my new friend and I walked up to the cash register to pay, there was a child's placemat (they provide crayons at each table) taped to the back of the register...
Everything works out in the end. If it hasn't worked out, it's not the end.