Hot Tubs and Address Books

After my water aerobics class at the Y, I spend about 15 minutes in their hot tub.

The whirlpool shoots out water from around a built-in, wrap-around seat.

I always sit right in front of one of these spouts because the action of the roiling water relieves some mildly painful stress in my lower back.

As I sit, I notice the plethora of bubbles moving on the surface of the  water.

They are not static, but are in constant motion.

Some bubbles are small and they seem to move in packs.

Occasionally a large bubble---about the size of my thumb nail--will  pass by and one, two, three, or more of the smallest bubbles will attach themselves to it.

And the newly configured heap of bubbles moves along.

As I watch this little drama, I try to speculate on why some smaller bubbles keep their independence while others cling to a larger one.

And then—poof—the large bubble pops and they all dissipate.

I look up “bubbles” on the internet and get a very scientific discussion of surface tension, among  other things, that affects their pairing up.

The explanation is too technical for me, but one thing is clear: there are physical laws of nature governing the spouting water and it could not be otherwise than it is.

These pairings are not random, but are governed by laws of physics.

I return to my home and get out my address book to write a letter.

Immediately, I am back in the hot tub as I look at the entries.

Instead of bubbles, here are people who have been close to me, are growing close to me, or have left my life for some reason.

Some of the people/bubbles are family members who have either died or dropped from sight with the exception of one cousin whose address is duly noted.

My husband and I have many friends from graduate school, still in our address book, but whom we no longer communicate with, except for an occasional Christmas card.

And then there are the people whom we were close with when they lived near us,  but whose moving combined with their general inertia takes them out of our lives.

Sometimes there is a name and address of someone whom I lost contact with for several years, but who has re-emerged as an important person  in my life.  This would be my undergraduate college roommate.

There are also names of people that we do not recognize at all; they were important enough to be in our address book at some point, but they have faded into the mists of time.

And then there are new entries: an eighty-year-old woman from Friends Meeting, whom I admired from afar and then finally got up my nerve to send a card to since her health is not the best.

And she sends me cards from time to time also.

I would not say we are close friends, but there’s a mutual admiration and liking which is perhaps just as good.

And a retired mail carrier and photographer who was introduced to me through e-mail by one of the Quakers because we both have Parkinson’s Disease.

I have not even met this person face-to-face, but we immediately clicked and e-mail each other often.

All of this goes to show that, while bubbles have to follow laws of physics, people can follow laws of the heart.

And I am slowly learning not to be backwards about throwing myself into the hot tub of relationships  or futilely regretting when a bubble bursts.