Kristy Heim wrote me a note once, on the wrapper of a piece of Wrigley's Spearmint gum. She carefully separated the outer paper from the inside foil wrapper, unfolded it, and on the flipside penned tiny blue letters that amounted to about two sentences. The note was understandably short, but suggested I could keep it for posterity. We were juniors, or maybe seniors, in high school, lolling around in our afternoon math class, already thinking about posterity at 17 years old.
I did keep it. I've kept much of what Kristy has created over the years, even sometimes the packaging from gifts she sends. The Christmas or birthday or housewarming wrapping is often recycled, upcycled I would say, something beautiful created from something used and ready to be tossed.
Today, Kristy's oldest child turns 14, and just might have already written something as thoughtful and creative to one of her friends. She is a lot like her momma. Audrey cooks and dances and draws and helps Kristy design and sew adorable felt creatures. They are two of the most creative people I know. (You can see for yourself, if you'd like, at Hannalah Designs on etsy.com, where Kristy offers her "sweet and silly things.")
We first met in grade school, though we lived in different neighborhoods. Every summer, a couple of weeks after school let out, Kristy and I would find each other at the sleepover birthday party of a mutual friend. The party usually involved a bonfire, sleeping in a tent, and games made up by Kristy and Lynette, the birthday girl. By 7th grade Shawn had joined us and we were a foursome dubbed decades later the YaYas.
The most recent time we all were together was Spring Break 2009, when the YaYas and our families met for severals days' getaway at the magical Edgefield Hotel, just outside of Portland, Oregon. Kristy knew of it, was headed there anyway, and invited us all to join. Between the four of us, we live in three different cities and are often together in smaller groupings, but there was something extra special about those Edgefield days.
The place itself is a poor farm converted into a European-style hotel. The outbuildings are small bars, a spa, a glass-blowers shop, a distillery, theater, and restaurant. Much of the food served at the Edgefield is grown on site and guests can wander the entire grounds. We carried beer and hummus plates to picnic tables in the shade, while all the YaYa kids scampered about in the grass. We ordered pizza and hotel staff delivered it one evening to the giant second-story balcony where we rested in rocking chairs.
Whimsical paintings cover the hallways and doors of each room, sculptures peek out from trees and arbors. Because I am the luckiest YaYa to be living closest to Portland, my family and I have returned several times to the Edgefield. There is a calm in the historic walls and gardens of the place. The desire to hurry recedes. I am filled with deep joy to just notice the things about me.
It's the kind of quiet calm I know and appreciate because of Kristy.
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