it's the little things

in the spring of 2008 i telephoned my dear friend's sister. my friend had passed away just after turning 49 years old, from a drug-drug interaction of 2 antidepressants. i was devastated, as she had been my friend since age 4, about 43 years. in one of the last conversations I had with my friend on the telephone, she told me to always call her sister, "because she always makes you feel better when things are hard". so here i was over a year later calling that sister, the oldest of 4 children who took a very large part in my upbringing, their home being a solace and a place to go when things were rough growing up. i had a place there. a room and a bed, and a stack of Nancy Drew books to lose myself in. that spring, i was facing bankruptcy and my friend and dad were suddenly dead. your life ripples underneath your feet when things like that happen. it leaves you standing in the morning listening to the advice of the sister, as a result of that conversation, saying the words she told me to say:

"I'm glad i am alive".

She told me that day, to go outside, every single morning, take a deep breath and say, i'm glad i am alive".

i did.

i do it every day. sometimes out loud, sometimes reluctantly and sometimes silently in my mind.

today i prepare to make my daughter a spaghetti dinner that we planned for tomorrow, on clozaril blood draw day. she will be coming home to eat her favorite dinner after the blood test.

it's those days, the ones that are small miracles that we need to take the time to cherish and enjoy in the moment.

like a puddle from the rain to jump in.

my little things

a sunset in the evening. a shooting star at night. a batch of brownies sending fragrance throughout the house. a smile from your lover.the changing of the leaves from summer to autumn. cooking spaghetti for loved ones. an august evening on the patio relaxing and looking at the night sky with a tea light candle burning, a sip of pinot noir and a piece or two of dark chocolate with wonderful company. gazing at a rocky river bed. watching a dog meet another dog on a walk. flowers blooming from seeds sown in the spring. enjoying the fresh cut lawn. the sunlight reflecting through the trees in the morning. a postcard in the mail with this quote "to the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders" from my middle daughter who is within driving distance. laughing.

life is too short for anything except pure appreciation, of the little things.