I was just thinking what a fabulously cheery day this is. all rustling breeze & yellow leaves & fresh-tasting blue sky. I love the way that glass buildings become radiant at the sight of the sun: seeing them makes me want to turn my own face into the warmth and let it soak through my eyelids & warm me to my toes. really, it would be considerably more difficult to enjoy this day if one happened to be buried in a box six feet below the ground. [this is what I contemplated while stopped at the red light of roselle+algonquin.]
my little brain was whirring along with a thousand petty thoughts from the day: fleeting combinations of a shower at 0-dark-hundred, chillin' at the ER, 7 boring hours of paperwork, running errands, griping because nylons are still a required part of my uniform... and then suddenly, there it was, breaking up my merry little thought-train.
a graveyard.
a graveyard, but not the misty, grey, cobweb-draped place the word conjures up. it was in fact a content-looking green lawn brushed with sun and dotted with stone monuments and silk flowers. it didn't seem to mind being perched between two busy roads stacked with oblivious drivers. in fact, it looked like it was accustomed to being ignored. ignored, that is, by all except the dedicated few who carefully change the silk flower arrangements every season. the few who can't tear their eyes away from the view behind the chain link fence so easily unnoticed by other waiting drivers.
it would be hard to enjoy this day from underneath six feet of cold dirt and a silk flower arrangement. but it would be even harder to enjoy it from the grass-rimmed edge of memory, kneeling in the october sun and listening to the sound of the world forgetting.
I was so distracted that the car in front of me was halfway through the intersection before I realized the light was green.
after collecting myself from the sudden web of thought trails, I realized the many things this day could have been. it could have been the anniversary of a family member's death; it could have been the moment my phone jingles with devastating news. it could have been the realization that the last word I said to you was the last word I'll ever say to you. it could have been anything. but it isn't. in fact, it happens to be a perfectly ordinary day when I drive home from Harper and daydream.
someone once shared this thought with me: what if we woke up today with only the things we thanked God for yesterday?
sure made me think.
so today I'm feeling thankful for all the things this day is not. & in addition, I'm feeling absurdly happy about the crumbs on the counter, the tock-tocking of the kitchen clock, the clatter of my sister's fingers on the keyboard, & the sound of my brother's pushups pounding the floor alongside his school books; the familiar touch of the couch upholstery, the smell of our spice cabinet, the knowledge that I can go sit in the grass & for one moment know that all is well.
this is the 19th time I've had an october 10th. today is a good day.
with that said, it's time to hop out of the clouds & attack my to-do list. I hope this monday afternoon does not find you six feet below the ground.
and if it doesn't, then I hope you're finding joy somewhere in this beautiful day.
love always,
rory
