I sat down here to write one thing, but I think I’ll write another. Because if I’m boring myself, how must you feel, dear patient readers? Let’s not be bored.
I won’t write about things past, or the cold, or the current worries.
Today I worked, and that’s a wonderful feeling. I had a list of things my client wanted me to do and I sat down and did them and then had a phone meeting where my client and I laughed about some confusing things in the project. And no one was mean. And no one was snarky. And it was all in the name of pleasantly working on a project together.
Today I took hot water mixed with molasses out to the goats and they welcomed me with their very sparkly, inquisitive eyes, and sniffed my pants and nibbled on my jacket’s zipper pull. As usual, they tried to race into the upper part of barn before I could shut them out, but Westie (shy, picked upon Westie) is very fast and very smart and got in there before I could shoo her. So how do I punish her? By letting her stay in, of course, along with her own bucket of hay and her private bucket of molasses “tea.” Because you have to give her credit. That girl knows what she wants.
Today I skipped breakfast because I was in a hurry to get to work, but I made a big mug of English Breakfast tea. And later, when I got hungry, I stood by the open refrigerator and ate the last wedge of kishke that we’d heated up on the weekend.
Today I finished the work that needed doing, and then drove to my favorite flower shop and asked Morgan, the owner, to make me a bouquet that would make me smile. She went around the shop, picking blooms that pleased her, while I stood still by the center table, overflowing with flowers, the air warm and summer-scented.
Today I thought about my mother, and how this day, six years ago, she left us. And I smiled more than I thought I would. I wouldn’t say I was exactly happy, but I felt peaceful. I felt her near me, and I felt her appreciating the flowers. I imagined her easy smile and her infectious laugh and the mischievous spark in her eyes.
Today I didn’t worry about one thing, though the list of potential worries is long. What happened before has happened and can’t be changed. What happens tomorrow is anyone’s guess.
I cannot maintain this zen feeling, but I can enjoy it while it lasts, while the last trace of sunlight slips over the western hills, while the waxing crescent of the moon rides behind wispy clouds, while H hums to herself while she does her French homework, while the dog rests his chin on his paws in front of the fire, while M places the takeout Chinese food order, while my heart beats.