On P&P

I have a dear friend, a faithful, valiant woman who has really had a tough three years supporting a loved one through a terrible health crisis. Innumerable offers have come for every possible help--lawn care, meals, errands, companionship at hospitals, rides, prayers, fasting. . .

There is one small, extra happiness she quietly loves. She, like me, loves Pride and Prejudice. One year, when she was recuperating from her own ailment, we watched the PBS long version. . . all six hours. Like two pre-teens squirreled away with a bowl of popcorn and a flick, we watched all six hours, breaking only to refill snack plates. We'd swoon over the brooding, pouty Mr. Darby and curse the societal moors that kept them apart. It didn't matter that we could nearly repeat the dialogue. It was still exciting, and for that six hours, we shoved the cares of the world away.

We're setting a new date to see that old charmer again. It's taken us months to pick a date that works for each of us. We're going to invite other P&P lovers as well, and have lots more snacks. These are times that call for a little bonding, a little laughter, a few tears that are guaranteed to be subdued at the end of the reel when the fated pair triumphs over their obstacles.

Everyone needs an extra little magic bullet. This is ours. Every couple of years. . .