the wrong room.



I haven't stopped thinking about this since I came across it last week.


Sam was in town this past weekend and she's the sort of smart that's makes me want to play--her vocabulary, her zingers--it all feels like a really fun, really satisfying game.


I'm in the right room when I'm with her.


When I told her this, she said--in typical Sam fashion--I'm glad that we're in this room together. 


The thing about getting older is that things get clearer. Wants and needs and priorities and the engines in our chests solidify. But giving voice to these things isn't always easy--the thing may be clear, but how to explain it, not.


And so there's something about this notion of the wrong room that feels so spot on. Like, yeah, I want to be in the room with that person there. That person, not so much.


And it is clear in a way that doesn't make apologies.


It's a really comforting, actually, as I build my life, thinking about who I want to share that proverbial room with.