This morning I woke up and my back and shoulders were sore. Oh gosh, am I that stressed? No. NO. I remembered that that is what if feels like when you work muscles that have been stagnant too long. And I relished the soreness.
This morning, I glanced at Face.book. Because love it or hate it, I can't resist checking in now and then, and I saw this update from my friend H.
The morning is crisp and promising, and I'm excited for a day of breadbaking, teriyaki and grilled pineapple, loud music and a vintage apron, cocktails and company.
And smiled because it is so vintage H. And as I was envisioning H. in her apron up to her elbows in flour, sipping a cocktail, trying to decide which music to play for her company, I realized that, you know what, like all of us, H. has had a handful of really shitty things happen to her in her life. Things that have absolutely shaped the beautiful person she is now.
But those aren't the things she talks about. Those aren't the pieces of her that she shares with anyone who will listen. She'd rather tell you about the recipe she just tried, or the perfect campsite her and her husband just found, or the moment of quiet reflection she enjoyed the other morning on her little porch. Those are the things she wants you to know about her. Because they give her joy.
I need to be more like H.
I need to remember to share the good days along with the messy ones with you here. Because there definitely are some. Even when there aren't full days, there are moments. And what more do we have, really, than a collection of moments?
This afternoon, I dropped M. off at his parents and see that I have most of the day to myself. A beautiful, sunny almost-autumn day. And I will not spend it wallowing in a "this time last year...." funk. I will put a load in the laundry, take out the trash, grab my bag and head to the gym. Do I brave the crowded riverfront for a run or do I want the comfort of the treadmill? Either way, I will slide into the water when I'm done. And swim myself sore. And with each stroke, I'll reflect on some of the many, many questions I threw down here the other week like a gauntlet to myself:
How many times do I have to say "My heart is open for what comes next" until I believe it?As many times as it takes.