Rules for Visiting

by Jessica Francis Kane

It was easier to wash my face in the morning. In fact, it was a pleasure. I believed again in the possibility of a new day, the present one and the next one after that.

Years later it was pointed out to me that guardian and garden share a root meaning “safety, enclosure.”

I have always assumed others have more and better friends.

Small talk is like improv comedy: rarely funny and always one sentence away from fizzling.

We live in a time when everyone gets a medal and all villains have heartbreaking backstories. No one thinks evil is intrinsic anymore, just someone making a really bad choice.

was interested in figuring out who I was with other people, and why that person was hard to be.

He said recent measurements indicated those trees, too, were growing much faster than they should have been. Blake had talked with several people at the U.S. Forest Service about what he was noticing on campus and they told him recent measurements from around the world showed mature evergreens of all species now regularly exceeding previously recorded height records by twenty to thirty feet. “Why?” I asked. Blake settled a little coral impatiens bursting with buds into the soil. “Global warming,” he said. “I think they’re trying to save us.”

The Japanese have a word for the calming, restorative power of simply being in a forest or among trees: shinrin-yoku, forest bathing.

Perhaps a best friend is someone who … holds the story of your life in mind. Sometimes in music a melodic line is so beautiful the notes feel inevitable; you can anticipate the next note through a long rest. Maybe that is friendship. A best friend holds your story in mind so notes don’t have to be repeated.

“This feels like a eulogy.” I laughed. “Exactly. That seems to be the only time we summarize our friends.” “Because it’s the best time.” “Why?” “Because certain things only come into focus when a person is gone. It’s sad but true. You need memory and loss to polish your thoughts. Otherwise you’re just writing a speech or an introduction or something.”

Why do I like gardening? Because I worry I’ve inherited a certain hopelessness, a potentially fatal lack of interest, that I’m diseased with reserve. Making a garden runs counter to all that. You can’t garden without thinking about the future.

Do not arrive telling stories about the difficulties of your trip. Bring a gift. Make your bed and open the curtains. A guest room is not a cave just because it’s temporary. Help in the kitchen, if you’re wanted. Unless you are very good with children, wait until you hear at least one adult moving around before getting up in the morning. Don’t feed the pets. Don’t sit in your host’s place. If you break something, admit it. Say good night before bed. Always send a thank-​you note.