Remembering hot, sticky summers with deep and real communication.
A few of my takeaways from the best time-management, strategy, productivity and discerning discipline book I've yet to read.
Joyfully pursuing essentialism in a world that always asks for more.
Tonight I found myself alone. And a deep nostalgia crept up — flooding in from all stages of life. I blame the fall season — it has it's mystical ways of bringing things to the surface that have been locked away in soul-boxes we've packed up.
The light faded and street lamps began to peek out. I had an itch to walk around the streets downtown. Nowhere in particular with no specific plan — I just wanted my boots to be against the pavement, take in the lights, and wander. My heart wanted to wander.
I called numerous friends, and as most 30 year olds do, they all had plans for Friday night.
I jumped in my car and began to drive, the windows cracked a little, cool air rolling in. Memories of college came back. Of knocking on friend's doors, walking to coffee shops, reading all night in Barnes and Noble. Of countless cups of coffee, long wandering walks through the night, Dominoes pizza delivery, bottles of Dr. Pepper, and endless mundane moments that were nothing, but that made up 5 years of life. My life.
As I drove I could hear past friends laughing voices in my ear — faces I haven't seen in years, phone calls that stopped coming, and those whose feet no longer tread this Earth.
And I wasn't sad, but happy. I could feel my heart smile.
I called one of those old friends, and she answered. We'd had a sort of falling out years ago. I'd heard she had a new baby girl. In the end, she said, "Thank you for calling. It was really nice to hear your voice."