Years ago I dreamed that I was at work, filling pages of a legal pad with notes, which I planned to type up into something neat and presentable for the editor who asked for it. As I wrote, he passed the office I was in, stuck his head in the door, saw what I was doing and said, “Oh, a few words on a sticky-note would be enough.”
That was one of my most memorable dreams ever. It’s why I have had a sticky-note with the word “enough” on my desk ever since, long enough now that it has to be held down with a rock because the sticky isn’t sticky any more.
Some Daylilies posts got started, but they’re still in the pages-of-notes stage, and some of those pages are only in my head. Meanwhile (buoyed by this podcast from Ann Kroeker yesterday, urging listeners to “Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can,” repeating after Arthur Ashe, who may have been channeling Teddy Roosevelt), I reckon this list is enough to get back in the groove.
Things I’ve been gladdened by, thankful for, happy about lately
The legal-pad version:
Spending time, talking, sharing meals with a longtime friend, the kind who will let me wash her dishes.
Learning a few days ahead of time that the capacity of the conference room I would be speaking in was not, as I had envisioned, 30-40, but 225.
Renewing enthusiasm for and commitment to the work I do.
Independent bookstores, especially Words & Music in Wheeling, W.Va.
A great day trip with my Mom2, beginning by waking her (as she had requested) and saying, “It’s time to get up. We’re going on a field trip today.”
Morning raindrops on the pansies that came back to life from last fall.
A recording starting with birdsong.
A playful debate over capitalization.
Remaining silent and hearing others ably say what I would have said.
The sensitivity of someone who asked (not in these words), “Are we OK?” (We are.)
The appearance of a small, tall forest in a parking lot overnight.
The smile of delight on the face of a coworker (who was having an Eyeore day) when he tried out the new office light-up yo-yo (which was swag from the conference).
The relief (and sense of moving into a lower weight class in the wrestling match of life) of having taxes done and paid.
The sound of rain through the open door.
The return of Ann’s podcast.
Walking into the living room at the right moment to see the moment of sunrise.
Cooling the house with a crossbreeze through open windows.
The longest, closest friendship of my life. (Happy fake holiday in honor of siblings, bro.)
Using up stuff in the pantry for dinner instead of going out.
People who, when you ask for a butt-kicking, give you a spirit-lifting instead (which accomplishes the same, and more).
People being their delightful selves. Like the dad with his three kids in the parking lot this morning. The younger sister is riding her scooter, protected by a pink helmet with cat eyes and ears on top of it. The little brother looks somehow both sporty and dapper in his black longsleeved T-shirt, gray shorts and black rain boots. And all four are having more fun with a basketball than you’d expect in the absence of a hoop, because they’re making up the games themselves.
Wisteria! It just shows up, all of a sudden. It won’t be here long.
The way hard seasons come to an end. The way hopeful seasons come around again, reminding us of things we’d forgotten we loved.
The good feeling of crossing things off the to-do list.
The sticky-notes version:
Professionals who know their stuff way better than you do, but who, after countering your weak but persistent objections on one point, decide to look it up, then call you to say, “You were right.”
People who step in and say what you would have said, better than you would have said it, if you will remain silent and let them.
People who, when you ask for a butt-kick, give you a spirit-kiss instead.
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