Small things

It's August. Again. How does this happen every year? I thought my August reaction would be completely eclipsed this year by well - everything - but apparently not.

Everything is so brown. Dry. Drab. The world limps along in a washed-out, dusty version of itself. I long for spring rain, and bright new leaves on trees and sprinklers and small swimming costumes and flip flops. For new flowers and longer days and most of all, moving on. It's around the corner. Spring. Only a few more windswept weeks.

It's been an up and down week. I had a session with the world's most amazing therapist. I knew it already when I was sitting in her waiting room, and I lost myself in a book called Meetings with Remarkable Trees. Because I get that not everyone would be excited about a book about trees. But oh! When Immy is older, I am taking her to see the California Redwoods. And now that I've seen this book, well. The tree world is ours for the taking.

We spent the morning catching up with friends from Australia over breakfast. Enjoying the blue winter sky and exploring.

Gwyn and I have been friends since high school, and ours is one of those easy friendships that comes with no pressure, no strings and picking up straight where we left off. As if we saw each other yesterday, rather than four years ago.

I've been thinking about endings, and beginnings. The way we meet people - a chance conversation, or a chance encounter. How unexpected it all is. And how we never know at that moment what impact that person will have on our lives. Their part in our story. It may be short, or it may be the beginning of a long and winding road. It may run deep - a merging of souls - or it may be a completely different thing, light and fun and filled with sunshine. It may be both. Sometimes it hurts, and we wonder if it was worth it. I think it always is. I am grateful that every person contributes in some way, significant or small, to who I am - and more importantly, to who I am becoming every day.


Small things we're enjoying this week.

Winter log fires that sizzle and crackle, and fill our home with light, and warmth and movement.

Music, and music and more music. In my car, Ultraviolence on repeat. At home, Immy's playlist. Although I am allergic to pop/hip hop/rap music, I've added Macklemore Can't Hold Us onto the list and it's a hit. And as a throwback to the 80's rock scene, 'Don't Stop Believin' by The Journey. If you haven't sung out loud to this song, you haven't lived.

We're reading Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Every night. Every night.

I've started packing for the Big Move. Well, not really. But I HAVE assembled three cardboard boxes ready to be packed with stuff. Because you know what they say about a journey of a thousand steps.

Finding stars in unexpected places.

And the best for last. A living, breathing poet.

If souls have kindred spirits, then I think I may have found mine.

sometimes i sit
alone beneath 
the stars and think
of the galaxies
inside of my 
heart and truly
wonder if anyone
will ever want
to make sense of
all that i am

To a good week filled with small adventures.



Anonymous said…
And what a lovely catch up it was. So sad that we don't live closer, but wonderful that we can pick up where we left off.