2 conversations

Today I had 2 conversations (ok I had more than two, stop being so detail oriented).  1 of them was with a friend.  1 of them was with my mom.  They were equally as important.  The conversation with my friend was talking about a serious issue (like as serious as cancer, it wasnt cancer, but it was still really serious).  We spoke at length about what she could do, what she should do, and how on earth she’s going to figure out how to emotionally handle whatever the outcome may be.  She didnt walk away with all the answers, but she knew (I hope) that she wasnt alone in this, and that she is much loved.

My conversation with my mom today consisted of a nearly 20 minute monologue about a new rug she and my dad purchased.  She did most of the talking.  She described the rug in detail, we briefly discussed other options for multiple rugs in the room.  She described with detail the process she and my father went through shopping around and eventually discovering this particular weave of fiber.  I know where the rug is placed, how long it measures, and what walls in the home it matches.

Believe it or not I feel that these conversations were equally important.  Now you might be thinking “uh, no…. dude… the first lady has cancer!”  (or you might have stopped reading this 200 words ago.  I’ll never know.) But here’s the point.  These women needed to talk.  Of course the subjects were different.  But I would argue that my mother was reassured that her daughter had a genuine interest in the comfort of her home.  She was encouraged that her ability to make people comfortable in her home were still in tip top shape.  She can look at her rug with confidence knowing that it will bring lasting comfort to whoever steps into that room.  She knows that no one else can make her home what she makes of it. And that’s a big deal.

I guess the point I’m trying to make through the clutter in my mind is that women need to talk. We always need to talk.  It doesnt matter what we’re talking about, we need you to listen.  We’ll write it out, sing it for you, or embroider it onto little towels, but we have a message, we have a voice and we need to know that it’s making it’s way through all the other noise.