When Minds Think Alike: Grateful for the Friendship and Mentoring of @elizabethboquet

On Tuesdays, I received a text from my friend, Dr. Elizabeth Boquet, to see if I wanted to come to her house for burgers. Wednesday night was decided and I actively worked through my to-do list so I could make it to the home of her and Dan for an end-of-the-year-graduation-is-over celebration. I knew I had an appointment in Shelton at 5 p.m. to pick up donated basketballs for Hoops4Hope and that I would pull in their driveway around 5:45. I was off by one minute.

I arrived at 5:46 and purchased a bottle of Maker's Mark to thank her for all her support, guidance, kindness, mentoring, joy, friendship, feedback, and questioning she has offered me since I arrived to Fairfield University. She's a magical human being who has become VIP in my world. I didn't have time to get a card, but I wanted to thank her for being so good to me.

As I walked up the driveway, she asked, "Why do you have that bottle? What is that for?" I told her it was a gift and she yelled, "Daaaaaannnnnnnn."

She was laughing.

I was then presented with a gift, myself, to congratulate me on tenure. WOLA! We purchased each other the same exact gift! I like to think of this as the Great Whatever's equilibrium test, balancing out a total appreciation for two people with a fondness for one another. In the last few months, we've occasionally met on a Friday afternoons to discuss writing, histories, and possibilities and she shares a love for a good ol' fashion like me.

I would say we're even, but she's sort of ahead. Why? I spent last night in her backyard looking out at the bay-marsh of Milford with all its waterways, creeks, and estuary tricks - a watershed leading to the Long Island Sound. Her view is beautiful....enviable. As the sun settled, I realized the landscape was hypnotic and calming, telling its sponge stories where wildlife comes to wash-up and find snacks, and where roots comes to absorb the moon's salt water cycles.

High tides. Low tides. These areas are the lungs between land and sea and they carry with them rich stories, delicate tales, necessary poems, and ritual traditions. Such land is the confluence of rainwater into oceans, and man-made chemistry into destruction. They breathe into the skies, but also suckle from the roots of wetland grasses and shrubs.

Such areas are the bourbon for wherever coastlines meet larger bodies of water.

So here's to my friend, to friendship, to the writing and to the temporary break from the insane paces we keep in our worlds. Here's to storytelling, to barbecues, to gatherings, to nature, and to a love of dogs.

I accept your bottle of Maker's Mark and match it with an appreciation of my own. Any time you need evening company to watch the sun settle in last minute twinkles onto the greenery of your landscape, you know where I am.