John and I went to an outdoor event. At the start it was a sunny fall day, and my wool sweater was enough to stay cozy. But as the afternoon slid into early evening I started to get chilled. Often I enjoy being chatty at large parties, even when there are people I do not know well. But this time I mostly watched the beautiful clusters of guests and pulled my sweater around me tighter. Eventually a friend offered me his fleece which I gratefully added as another layer. I remembered those years in high school when girls would wear skimpy dresses, then coyly ask their dater for his coat. I never did that, but I envied the cool couples who did. 

 

When It was time to leave John packed up the guitar and sound equipment, and I held it together until we walked through our own door. Then I tucked myself into bed and tried to get warm. John brought me peppermint tea and a warmie. Those are bags of rice that you heat in the microwave and then slide under the covers. It was glorious. 

 

Laying under four quilts I thought about the simplicity of offering a bit of heat, whether it is a fleece, or a mug of tea, or a warm conversation. it matters. 

 

I remembered people who do not always leap into social interactions. Perhaps it has less to do with being disagreeable, and more to do with being cold. Not physically, necessarily, but in the sense of being ill at ease. 

 

In that cocoon of bedding I resolved to try harder to notice those who are on the edges of a crowd, and to approach them. Even if I have no mug of cider, I can offer warmth of a different kind.