That’s My Nature
| March 22, 2017
How do you tell a friend “I want to come to your house?” It sounds a little inelegant and needy but it’s the truth. I like staying at Dina’s house for Shabbos much more than inviting her to mine.
Shabbos at Dina’s is like a window into paradise for a little while. Her house has a large blooming garden near the entrance and a sprawling green backyard.
The yard isn’t vibrant with color — you won’t find a rainbow of flowers there — but somehow this is the most alive and beautiful part of the house. The grass is a plush inviting carpet and two trees a hammock and a wooden swing sit there waiting just for you.
When I arrive at Dina’s place the first thing I do is breathe. I exhale all of the city steam I brought with me and inhale the clean natural air around me. I lounge on the brown swing with Dina and I look around just breathing. I can sit in the backyard for hours but Dina sometimes wants to head inside. She sees this backyard every day after all.
But whenever I can I nudge Dina out to the yard. We sit and listen to the rustle of the leaves. Sometimes we lie on the grass and talk — really talk. The stillness around lets us really tap into what’s inside. And this still paradise stretches on and on. Beyond the fences on both sides there are more yards an endless line of green and brown.
For just a second I see the row of red apartment buildings on my city block but then I close my eyes wash away the image and look around again. Now I’m here in this green embrace.
Dina and I are camp friends but we’re more than the pen pal type. We are of the inverted personality click brand: Dina is easygoing but earnest; I am intense and serious. She sucks up some of my intensity so our connection balances us out. I feel relaxed around Dina just balanced and happy like everything is instantly okay.
You know how they say that silence speaks? Or silence is golden or whatever the cliché is? When Dina and I are together we are often silent — and those are our best moments. It’s like we are just enjoying being together. It’s not the doing or talking that connects us; just being ourselves is enough.
I love taking long walks with Dina on breezy Shabbos afternoons and feeling the wind on my cheeks spotting red and pink flowers on our way. I exult in the display of nature in this quaint town. It’s so pure and clean the way Hashem meant it to be.
But Shabbos always comes to an end and it’s soon time to pack my bags and make the long trip home back to the city. It’s hard to keep the sights and scents of Dina’s green backyard alive on a dark musty bus and by the time I walk into our red brick house nature has all but disappeared.
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