I woke up this morning, padded over the dingy old berber and down the stairs, let the dog out into the cold. Then I sat on the couch nearest the door where the dog would come back barking for warmth and breakfast. I pulled a child under each of my arms, looped my hands tight around their middles and squeezed good morning. What is there to miss and what is there to wish for when the air inside is warm and the heart is full?
Last night I talked with a dear old friend. Two hours went by while we toggled between tears and side-splitting laughter. My old same, she is the one I call when limbo and rootlessness begin to sabotage the present joy. First we commiserate. Then we remind. We have so much--we have right now. Live your story, and live it well.
Even now, the sun pours through the office window on its way to the top of the sky, and I see how it hits this ugly green and peach floral carpet. I feel a ray resting on my forehead, highlighting a 27-year old scar. When the right kind of light is cast, when I look with grateful eyes, I begin to see the day as a series of small miracles. I begin to believe that anything can be beautiful.