It's quiet here this morning. The sun is just now coming in the window with yellow light. Green trees still shadow the yard, yet a month from now they will be thin and brown and at the mercy of the wind.
It's these sweet early moments that cause thankfulness to rise up in my heart. How wonderful a soft woolen sweater feels! How delicious a cup of black coffee! How intoxicating the scent of a pumpkin candle glowing in the other room!
And this day is mine...I can choose how to live it.
I will choose to work a bit. The recent rains have fed the grass and made mowing a weekly chore once again. I will crank up the mower and my lawn mowing music and pave perfect rows across the yard. All the while, I am alert to fallen leaves with hints of purple and yellow, the way sunlight on the pond looks like shredded gold, and the hop, hop, fly of timid birds. Can this really be considered work when I am renovated by it? Spiritually awakened? At peace...
I will also choose to clean house today...for awhile. There is an unspoken pleasure at the sight of freshly vacumned carpet, the shine of polished wood, the way fabric-softened towels stack up in thick rainbow-colored piles.
I will stretch my mind today. Open the door to flowered words ...and try my best to make my brain say what my heart feels. Moments are lost if not for words. But the secret is to write them down in such a way -that years later, with just the simple act of reading it again, can cause waves of emotion that take you back in time. My effort is not lost if one day my children and grandchildren can read what I've written and somehow know me.
I will talk to my husband on the phone today. He will call on his break and we will discuss weekend plans. We'll laugh. We will reach across the September miles with invisible arms and hug one another.
I will eat the pear I've been saving. It is the color of honey with caramel freckles and I will probably need a napkin as I savor it quickly down to its skinny brown core. Then I will have shaved ham with a slice of white cheese and a fat red tomato. I may even dig in the cabinet past the old Cream of Wheat and stale crackers to find a hidden block of chocolate that melts like pure joy on my tongue.
I will greet this day with hope, happiness and gratitude. For without those things, what is life?