she was born at the wrong time, i think. she prefers a handwritten note above a phone call or email, and will purposefully ignore the vibrations coming from her bag when in conversation. she collects paper for the perfect moment and person, something we have in common although i can never seem to part with mine.
she reminds me of who i am. sometimes i forget. i'm not always who i claim to be, and jenny is there to make sure i remember. to sit in my kitchen and read Rilke while i make chocolate chip cookies. to tell me i'm not crazy, and that she understands when i get low. shes the one i call when on the verge of a breakdown. oh mere, she always says. and i just talk. i talk about nothing and everything and she remembers. and weeks later when things seem better a post card or letter comes with one-liners that are only meant for me, something from a conversation two weeks or two years ago.
when i'm with her i feel like that part of me that gets shoved under the rug to make way for the frantic meredith can come out, and sit awhile, or a whole day and not even think about my list of pointless things that need to get done so someone won't be mad at me. and because of jenny i can forget about all the things i hate about myself and remember why i am loved in the first place.
today send a handwritten note to the jenny in your world, tell them how they make your life so much more worth it.
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