I am on fire with love of life.
I love awakening in the morning knowing that it is Grace that gives me my breath, my life, another day on this unbelievably complex, perfectly balanced planet.
I rise early to enjoy the dawn. I make a cup of coffee slowly. Deliberately. Grounds in the little single-cup filter. Tea kettle on the stove. Whistle.
I draw a bath. I dribble eucalyptus bubble bath under the spigot as the warm-almost-hot water rushes out of the tap. I breathe in the scent. Ahhh. I’m happy to be here with a nose that works.
I fail to make up the bed and reflect. When Chuck is here, he makes it. I come home to a made bed. Luxury. Like!
I pick up my backpack, packed the previous night, and go to the door. Everything is ready for me there. God bless O.C.D. My lunch is packed. My keys are there in the bowl along with spare change. I take a loonie to “pay” for dress down day. I’m haven’t taken advantage of permission to wear jeans, but the tee shirt is a stretch.
I sling my backpack and lunch bag into the back seat of my darling VW Golf. How blessed I am to have wheels! They work! I don’t owe any money on her. She’s reliable and she’s mine.
Before getting into the car, I walk over to the Mulberry tree and pinch a few shiny black berries. The Eastern Cottontails watch me warily.
In the driver’s seat, I hit POWER on the stereo system. Mode: CD. Music for this morning? Eddie Vedder’s “Into the Wild.” I acknowledge the American Robin on the grass.
I drive. “Hello, Worldie,” I exclaim–after Patti Digh‘s daughter. It’s become my daily habit now. The point in my drive at which I remember to be HERE NOW varies. But at some point before arriving at work, I realize and I say it. Hello, Worldie!
I am alive.
I am so blessed.