It’s been a minute.

Somehow, in that minute, I forgot that I love who I am in your presence.  It’s warm, and familiar and forgiving.  Open, shy, and funny.  In that minute I created my own story about the things that filled your time, while filling my own.  Head down, nose in a book, fingers on the keyboard, I forged forward with each of the 60 seconds.  

Sometimes, time would pause, and I’d wonder how you were filling your minute. In that minute, we healed and grew.  That minute was filled with both the good and bad.  It was a much needed 60 seconds.  Sometimes, you just need to breathe for a minute.  

Time is interesting.  It’s gone and we can’t reclaim it.  Those are 60 seconds that are gone, done, over.  But, we sit, coffee and tea between us, a minute older.  We feel wiser - stronger where it counts and weaker where it holds no bearing.   

Thank you for allowing me a minute. Thank you for knowing when the timer went off and joining me at this tiny table. Thank you for meeting me where I am.  Thank you for being warm, familiar, and forgiving, open, shy, and funny.  

Thank you for offering up a minute of your time.