Skyping Home

This morning I got to talk to my parents, something that only happens a little less than once a week and only lasts about 25 minutes before we both exhaust all the exciting news.  It's mostly that none of us are really big story tellers or feel that there are huge events in our lives that need to be told.  I like to check on how the other members are my family are doing, try to think of something note-worthy happening in my life, and my parents will tell me things that they've done–gone to a concert, taken a drive along the river, visited friends or relatives or walked through natural parks, my father's current musical, my mother's work.  There are various things that make up lives that can be worthy of discussing, but also reactions to daily experiences; taking delight storms, or the change of the seasons, or a Haydn quartet.  These little things happen all the time, and they are an opportunity to share a similar humor with certain people close to us; a trust that something strikes us in a similar way, that we take in the world together, that something about our perception and experience of life is not so lonely.