16. Deeann C

Deeann is pastel colors. With soft, wispy blonde hair that frames small feminine features on a heart-shaped face, she could be a movie star. She only wears clothes that are soft to the touch, so hugging her is always soothing, like her lack of strong perfume and the tenderness of her lotion-y hands. She has a feminine voice that calms me over the phone just as well as in person, and laugh that sounds like rainbow sprinkles, in the way that it falls down and splashes suddenly with brightness.

My friend Deeann has two children well under the age of three. I like watching her with them for she is always aware, always on top of things, but somehow unharried. She wouldn't say this about herself, but the way she gently bounces Natalie while simultaneously scolding Ben demonstrates the ease with which she manages her sudden new occupation. Her mother's heart has opened in bright huge butterfly wings with the birth of each; when asked if she likes being a mother she will thoughtfully say, "No. I like being a mother to Ben and Natalie."

Her warmth is subtle, a hospitable opening of arms to those who draw near. She does not spend this warmth willy-nilly, but rather reserves it in order to spend with a fervent generosity on those who know her well. It is a gift to be called her friend or family, for we have a unique opportunity to sit at her table and relax in a pastel presence.

Many people show off their personality inadvertently in the way they decorate and dress. No one does this as much as Deeann. Her room growing up was butter yellow; a soft and pastel quilt covered her bed and her curtains matched, mimicking the sun's morning shaft of light. Now her bed is covered in a white matelasse with small coral covered pillows. She likes to dress in cotton candy pink and baby blue and khaki. She looks dazzling in a muted olive green and can even wear white well in dead winter. I honestly think she takes the beach with her wherever she goes.

One day last year I was visiting friends in Dee's area and she offered to have me stay at her house. I was so grateful, for I knew her bathroom would be bright and clean and fresh and her bed linens soft and laundered. One night, late and after the kids were in bed, we sat talking at her oak dining table in the glow of lamps that colored the walls in a soft ivory. I remember how easy it was to be honest with her and let down the burdens weighing my mind. She gently squeezed my hand and looked at me with a sympathetic purse of her lips. Sitting there in the comfort of her home was like returning home for Christmas at college; sweet and welcoming and freeing to feel known.

Beyond her warmth, physical beauty, and inviting decorating talents Deeann is humble. I think it is this in her that allows me to drop my bags at her door and fall happily into her presence. This humility is a warmth in and of itself, an open hand to others' imperfections and an invitation to be real.