Three friends and I trek along the mountainside sharing stories, experiences, and muscle endurance. It's finally spring, and we are enjoying the benefits of sunshine and the beauty of green nature trying to peek out from under the blanket.
Our hike starts at 8:00 and most of us have just rolled out of bed. Nikki's shirt is inside out, which I examine and it makes me chuckle. Lisa's hair has a sizable rat's nest in the back which I notice, play with and tease her. Karen seems to be put together. And myself? Who cares. These superfluous physical mentions all belong in the who cares category. Because we know what matters. We know what's under the surface.
Lisa mentions a biography she had to write as a lecture series presenter. She called Nikki and asked her to give a thumbs up or down. As Lisa read, Nikki was impressed with her friend's accomplishments. She even felt honored to have her as a friend. In our early morning roughness we tend not to think of each other as accomplished women but instead, we are just friends, hiking partners, another Mom who lives down the street.
When I read my own husband's curriculum vitae, I too am surprised, because he's just the guy who does the laundry, makes great waffles, and overeats ice cream. He would categorize me simply as the woman who lets her clothes pile up on the side of the bathtub, who makes too many impulsive decisions, and needs help organizing.
And it's okay. To live in awe of the people around us would be exhausting. We need them to be flawed, funny, and to spend too much time playing Mario Kart. When something reminds us of their greatness, we can pause and say, "I'm honored to know you, now please take out the trash."