Life is comprised of years, and years of days. Days are comprised of hours, and hours of minutes. Trivial things, minutes are. If life is the grand compilation of trivialities, I want to cultivate the habit of recognizing the beauty, the mystery, the sorrow, and the humor in each of them. Missing, or simply disregarding, the moments that add beauty and texture to life would result in a flat, gray existence. When I look over my shoulder, I don't want the path I traveled to look like an asphalt road in Indiana.
So, here are some recent trivialities:
Raccoons do live in the city. At least, one does... and still does, thankfully. I nearly hit him on Broad St. After swerving to avoid him, I ended up in the turning lane because I was craning my head to try to catch another glimpse of the big guy. "Oh, my word!! A coon!" And then I laughed at myself because I sounded like such a city kid. Not too many years ago I went coon hunting with my dad. Now, I almost wreck my car because I'm gawking at one.
I had the urge to make a loaf of bread today. I haven't done that for a long time. The smell of yeast, kneading the smooth, warm dough... the satisfaction of watching people eat thick slices of the crusty, golden magnum opus... Instead, I taped the cardboard box, labeled it, and sent the lovely whole-wheat flour to a customer in New Mexico.
I like one-way streets. I can parallel park faster when I park on the left side. Does handedness affect this?
Every time I run from the office to the store, I can't help but sing Bob Marley's "Sun is Shining"... ever notice that sunbeams have personalities?
I heard a dispatch on the scanner today to my street "for an emotional problem". "Twelve-year-old child, out of control and violent. Threatening everyone." Later, "[We are] relocating child to New Jersey." I don't know the kid, but I feel a loss on the street tonight. God, please send someone to care for that kid...
Riding an elevator alone makes me feel like I could step out and be anywhere in the world.
A sober little girl with big blue eyes regarded me with extreme caution as I carried boxes into the Post Office. While her mom talked to the postmistress, she never took her eyes off me or changed expression. The first trip inside, bearing a stack of boxes, I smiled at her. No expression change. Upon my next entry, I made a goofy face. No expression change. Hysterical.
My friends are amazing people. Isn't it miraculous, that a phone call can make you feel more... human... and the world a warmer place?
Tomorrow, I leave to spend the weekend with an enduring sisterhood. Here's a mystery: how did we go from sleepovers at 16th birthday parties to doing such grown-up things as getting married? Help!
It's amazing to me that we've stayed so close, even though we scattered. The trust and sheer enjoyment of our group isn't dependent on presence or even constant communication.
We've seen each other through so much that we don't even need to be told that, when needed, we'll be loved, supported, and most assuredly laughed at.
Bessie & Jesse's engagement pictures make my face hurt from smiling. I love seeing my friends so happy!