It is 9PM in New York and I am drinking coffee with cream top milk and listening to The Avett Brothers and practicing my downward dog into chaturanga because I cannot wrangle my brain to focus on one thing. Instead I am thinking about what Laura wrote to me in her most recent email:
Have we ever talked about Chinese bamboo farmers? That bamboo takes seven years, give or take, to start growing above ground? Chinese bamboo farmers water their bamboo every day for seven years - seven! - with no question that it will, eventually, shoot up towards the sky. The farmers, they dutifully water and nourish their bamboo, nothing seemingly changing, and then bam: it pokes through the ground with such force you can hear it creaking as it grows. It strikes me that we've both been watering our bamboo with the kind of faith and dedication of a Chinese farmer, and Meg: it's paying off. We'll see shoots, sure enough, and then we won't quite believe how gloriously and tall and wonder pushy it grows.
And I'm just sending up a small prayer for the bamboo farmer in us all.