It feels the same way as when
one friend uses cheesy pick up lines on me –
still
after almost 20 years of friendship 
(and five kids and three marriages between us later)
because they still appreciate me and making me laugh –
even if it’s not ever That Way.
It’s the same as when
an Almost But Not still greets me with
“Good morning, Beautiful!”
because as far as they are concerned
well, I obviously am
so it’s just stating the truth,
and there’s no such thing as
too many compliments if you mean them.
It’s the way my best friend reminds me
of why we are best friends,
and we laugh until 1am
and talk all the heavy things
over gin and ranting
and getting nothing else done.

It’s the way
I made myself lunch today – 
brisket lettuce wraps
with brisket I smoked and seasoned myself
and homemade mayo –
instead of just eating
whatever I could snarf down while walking
between the soap room and the garage studio,
and again at dinner –
something I took time to make for myself
because I deserve that care and consideration too.
I deserve that enjoyment.

It’s the way this afternoon, exhausted from
fighting with a rollercoaster of  hard feelings I said:

look, stop telling yourself no
because you think someone thinks you should 

And I went and got that cheap merlot wine I wanted,
and I got my middle child spicy Doritos
and then came home to write
and talk with friends –
to do something for no other reason
than I wanted to do it
and it made me happy.

How long have I been denying myself
creature comforts
and small pleasures
in the name of propriety 
and accomplishment
and good enough?

//My entire life.

And so I allow
my brisket lettuce wraps 
and red wine
and loud music
and compliments from friends
and maybe not working until 9pm
and the things that
give my physical soul comfort,
like words on this page,
like paint on the canvas;
me showing up for 
the sheer joy of the experience. 

It is important.
It is how you know what love is.