I walked and breakfasted with a friend whom I had not seen in months.  During this time, she had undergone surgery, physical therapy, recovery...and I had not been sufficiently alert to offer help.
It left my mind completely until we visited this morning, after so long.
Yes, a great many things were on my plate and on my mind during that period.  Still:  isn't our main job, really, to look after each other as well as ourselves?  And to do kindly what is needed?
Perhaps I was doing what was needed for myself, which still seems to be rather inward.

My teacher Mme. Colette, z'l, insisted that, despite what I had thought for years, I was actually an introvert.  Turns out her assessment was more accurate than I believed then:  I now need great chunks of time alone in order to digest the internal and external events of each day.  If I forget or ignore that requirement, I suffer a sort of psychic indigestion, where some things stick in my craw and others whisk right through without getting absorbed.

We passed the halfway mark of counting the Omer a few days ago.  
I feel this practice as an attempt to map changing texture of Time, which thins and thickens as the days roll into one another.  I cannot predict, but only discover which days whisk by, and which ones drag as if through a stickier medium. We are about to enter Wednesday, which is also, in some languages, called Mid-week.  My mind sees that day as balancing, like we used to when we were kids and stood balancing on the middle of a see-saw:  it is that place where, for a moment, anything is possible.
May we use that magical moment well.