I got a special package this week. My dear friend and former room mate had asked for our new address a little while ago. And here, in her lovely, familiar handwriting was a gift.
“Caro,” she writes… a nickname that we found so amusing in grad school. A nickname that means “Dear” in Italian. One night we sat in our crazy old house with snacks and the hope that the film “Caro Diario” would be one of those great foreign flicks that we could fall in love with and share with our friends. Instead it was a long, odd film that we found quite dull, until we began incorrectly pronouncing the title “Caro Diarrhea” and burst out laughing together.
Caro, though, is a shortened version of my middle name, Caroline. And somehow that funny Italian film and my middle name became a silly nickname that I cherish.
And this gift is as dear as my friend, Kathy. For a housewarming, she sent her first attempt at needlepoint. A small bird in a cage, below a heart, with stitches full of heart and love. In it I see the extension of our friendship, started what could not possibly be a full sixteen years ago, and continues. Despite miles and time zones and other things in our lives. I’m excited to have it in our kitchen, reminding me of old friends, of new projects, of the love that fills all things.
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