loft

I love this word: loft.
like so many of our wacky english words, it has more meanings than I'm sure it knows what to do with. and although I love lofts in houses and the dense feeling of woolen yarn, the meaning I want to play with here and now is this:

to propel through the air or into space.

not exactly a road biking term, at least not a term to use for the kind of road biking I prefer. I have definitely experienced moments of loft while cycling, but I am hoping not to repeat them.
thoughts of loft, however, came to me the other day while I was biking. as thoughts so often do, the notion of "loft" just suddenly appeared in my mind. it might have had something to do with the clouds billowing above the mountains, or not. loft was just, out of the blue, in my consciousness.

and this is why loft is on my favorite words list:
it is light and carefree, it floats.
it is full of joy.
it is untethered and boundless.
it didn't get there by itself: it had help.

I thought about throwing a "loft" party: I would invite everyone who has helped me to be who and where I am today. of course not everyone, as that would entail searching out every person I have ever encountered, which is not terribly realistic, nor would such a huge number of people fit in my home.
but I would invite the friends who have stuck with me through the difficulties, and the friends who have caused me heartache. I would invite my mom, who has been everything from my crutch to my therapist to my friend to (at times) my hospital gurney. I would invite my dads, who all love me and have given me loft in their own unique ways. I would invite bob, to whom I was married for 16 years. I would invite all the boys and men I've ever loved. I would invite every family member I am even remotely related to. I would invite my kids, my past employers, my neighbors, and the teachers who believed I was an asset in class. and the teachers who didn't think I was an asset. I would invite my biking buddies, and my yoga friends, especially the ones who breathe and bend and stretch better than I. I would invite my cello teachers and piano teachers and liz, who this past summer helped me find the susan who is thrilled and inspired by color and shape and design. I would invite my writing group, I would invite everyone I've ever met through the isis sanctuary, where I have learned to open myself up to new experiences. I would invite my business partner connie, who has put up with my ever-evolving self for all these years, I would invite my other connie who helped me sell my house. I would invite bill, who has ridden all over the state with me, fixed my doors, and talked with me for hundreds of hours. I would invite the unhappiest people I know. I would invite every child in the world, and I would give them all cookies.
I would invite everyone who has ever sent a smile out into the world, because I know that somehow those smiles have moved from person to person to person and have, in ways I'll never be able to document, impacted my own little life.