I made it through my February challenge! Starting next Monday I’ll have a whole new schedule -a.k.a. standard work hours… but I better still make time to write or the whole purpose of this post per day challenge will be for naught!
So I missed posting yesterday. I have failed my first February writing challenge. I was in the middle of writing late last night and I fell asleep mid-thought. Just like that. My mistake was writing in bed in an overly exhausted state. I did have time at the airport because of a delayed flight… but I chose to read for the two and half hours of waiting. That may have been my other mistake. Though it’s not as an excuse, something about the airport atmosphere and the usual circumstances of why I’m there is not conducive to focused writing. It’s as if I can get distracted by every conceivable thing!
Anyway, today is about sharing something I’m thankful for. And among my endless supply of reasons for gratitude are two related things:
- I love the cleaned-up and polished feeling after I get a haircut. That feeling was definitely there after chopping off six inches of my raven locks yesterday morning. As a bonus, it doesn’t feel like I’ve tied weights to my hair when it’s in a ponytail!
- I also appreciate that the hair on my head still grows quickly. I seem to lose a lot of hair in the shower and don’t have as much on my head as I used to, but it’s still growing strong!
For my Great Aunt:
Sometimes a friend, the closest one you have, leaves you and it will be a long time before you see him again. At first, you might forget for a moment that he is gone and expect him to walk into the kitchen to ask about dinner. But he doesn’t and so you remember. That’s when you feel the heavy stones nestled in your chest. Your heart feels suffocated and in danger of arrest. Then, in traumatic upheavals, a staggering storage of salt water drains out, drains you. It’s not until enough pressure is relieved that you can stop, if only for a second or two.
And in that brief interval, you might receive unsolicited comfort. By an act of mercy you know he is asleep. Though you miss the warmth of him beside you, a transcending peace enters your grief. Joy seeps through in the midst of suffering because of grace. Because you know that almost two millennia ago another man was able to drink the heavy cup. And because you know that your best friend is finally home with his good Father.
The weather’s been a lovely mixture of drizzles and beautiful sunny days during my time in Los Angeles. I have one more day here and I’m so grateful for how wonderful the skies have been. This week has yet to be too cold or too hot. The hills are green and the leafy shadows cool. It has thus far been the best weather I could want for my brief stay.
Literally, I could write about whatever I want.
I think this is too much freedom for me. That’s why I need guidelines. I need parameters. Thankfully the freedom to write whatever I want includes not writing whatever I want and following some kind of structure.
That being said, in honor of my Thursday Thankfulness tradition, I declare my admiration, gratitude, and respect for rules. Most rules, that is. And by most I mean many. And by rules, I mean guidelines.
More specifically, I am appreciating my personal rules that have developed over the years and acted as a rubric for my day to day activities. These rules are not moral by nature though some may be based on some moral value. Instead, they encompass strains of my philosophy and practical practices that I have thought, in some cases, rather deeply about. Some of my rules come from life experiences while other are derived from hours of curiosity-led research.
I suppose everyone has rules whether they consciously think them as such or not. One of these days I may be inspired to write a series on my personal ones.
Right after I got off the Blue Line and onto the train platform, I dropped a glove. Before my brain was able to process the appropriate response my foot kicked the glove and it slid a ways across that dirty platform. The part that contacted the floor had a whitish gray powder -maybe Epsom salt? It looked like dust, like my glove was old and hadn’t been used for so long that dust had settled outside its folds.
I rode up the escalator and beat the glove against my coat. I detected the smelled of recently vacuumed carpets mingled with faint potpourri from somewhere or someone nearby. In the next moment I was a child in one of my grandma’s bright old apartments, climbing carpeted stairs, holding a tin cookie box of washable markers.
The dust, the smell, and the warmth of my puffy coat, did it. I must have smiled. I remember feeling loved, even then.
Walnuts were on sale so I obviously thought to myself, walnuts are really good in brownies and I already have brownie mix.
So I baked brownies with those walnuts and as I took them out of the oven I thought to myself, it smells delicious, it will taste pretty good.
And then I poured myself a glass of milk and bit into a rich piece of hot walnutty brownie and thought to myself, this is very good indeed.
My conclusion was, today is a good day.