Good Friday

Good Friday begins in the soft dark before dawn. How different to rise and be warm! I wander down and put on a pot of coffee, then sit and enjoy the fragrance of the hot brew while I read through Luke and John’s descriptions of the day of crucifixion. Whether or not it was actually a Friday is incidental to the meaning of the day.

Exercise with the “girls” is vigorous, followed by breakfast together at the little café down the way from Curves. They do a thriving breakfast business by providing cheap good food and being in the middle of a busy neighborhood. Conversation buzzes around the table from dogs to books to travel to Good Friday and its meaning.

Later I head to the library to exchange books and pick up Ben Hur. Years ago the Dragon and I watched Ben Hur for several years in succession on Good Friday. She’s watching it today far from me, but I will watch it sometime this weekend just for the sake of the shared memories.

People are just beginning to trickle into the library and I am struck again by the multi-ethnic blend of this community. There are head coverings of all sorts and before I check out I’ve listened to half a dozen languages. The park surrounding the library is bursting with spring. Ducks waddle across the roadways, geese honk overhead and splash into the ponds, while little boys follow their dads with fishing poles in hand.

A quick stop at the market puts me in line behind a middle-aged German couple. Again, the blend of cultures is striking.

At home I put on the classical radio station full blast and open the windows to let in the sunshine and warmth. We change out glass doors for screens and the sweet smell of almost spring is as delightful as the bright yellow of the forsythia bursting across the back of the yard.

Home. A wonderful place to spend the day, even with the routine of cooking and housework. Mikey from next door brings his son over to inspect the “chalet” out back. “Hey, Jeff hasn’t had a chance to see this place.” I chat with Jeff and find he’s married and gainfully employed. Is this the little red-haired kid who used to borrow my movies, hit me up for $$ to clear my drive using my snow blower and my gas, and generally cause mayhem in the neighborhood. Time is a wonderful thing. Living in one place long enough to see kids grow up is another boon. The next generation has taken over the cul-de-sac out front and a soccer game is bouncing around.

Tonight we’ll have friends for dinner – pilots from Africa, Afghanistan, Alaska, and Russia. Only two pilots. Lots of planes, flights, and countries in their corporate pockets. We’ll listen to crazy stories and share life. Then we’ll all head to church and take time to consider the solemn price paid for our lives.

It’s a good Friday.