Recently I had my palm read.
It was difficult for the palm reader to get an accurate reading from my hand, he said, because my palm was covered in sparkles.
Nevertheless I insisted that he persevere and push past the sparkles.
He took my hand in his and tautly smiled. He traced my heart line with his black polish manicured index finger, shook his head and said, “You are loyal to a fault. Unnaturally so, I’m afraid.”
He might have been afraid but I was not then and am not now.
Loyalty is my hallmark.
I love the consistency of my friendships. I love the fact that the friends that I met when I was five years old are still my friends and will be forever. I love that the neighborhood in which I grew up still exists, as it did, with a few minor additions, as when I still lived there. I love that the neighbors that I had as a child and as a teenager still remember my hair experiments and will remind me that I was always the fortune teller at our neighborhood carnivals.
When I commit to a person, place or thing, I am into it all for the long run, or until, well, they or it, choose to leave.
I won’t leave.
This is not to say that I am clingy, far from it. To quote my nearest and dearest, ” I am a lone wolf”. I enjoy my solitude because I have my collection of people and places and things in my head. I need to know that they are in my life but I do not need to breathe down their necks.
The time I spend with my friends is a gift. I love the details of them.
I love that Kris has always loved a certain color of blue. She has surrounded herself with this paint color since she was a child. Whenever I see the smoky blue-grey in the sky or on a wall I think of her.
When I think of my friend Diane I think of a full throaty laugh that reverberates through a room. It begins with a small rumble then ends with a wild guffaw. I can hear it whenever I need to.
When I see a solid pie plate, not the flimsy aluminum kind of pie plate, I think of Jan and the story she tells about herself as a child. She thought she had accomplished a huge feat once by jumping off an inverted pie plate on her driveway. True story. One that makes me smile and shake my head at the silliness we all have inside of us.
I have been working on my collection for a really long time and it, I think, is beautifully curated. From the artists and photographers to the beauties and philosophers I am fortunate to have them help me tell stories.
They are the sparkles that I hold in my hand.
I have the Beach Boys song “In My Room” on repeat as I write this. 
