Today I went to the library - any day that involves a trip to the library is a good day, even though it was pouring down rain and I had forgotten to wear a hat. I felt terrible on the way home, slightly nauseous and overheated. I actually ran a stoplight because I was spacing out, then felt ashamed and nervous.
But I got home and drank two glasses of water and had some bread, and sat down in the living room with an Ann Lamott book to read and Cub came and laid on my lap, shared my bread, sniffed my water glass and rubbed his chin on the corner of the book, and everything was well again.
There are always these gradients of peace and aggravation, these jerking moments like a carnival ride, fear that a crucial part will come loose and everything will come crashing down, but also a soaring exhilaration, the faces of people waiting, waving to their children, clutching huge stuffed animals and bags of cotton candy.
Things have been coming apart lately - my computer won't power up, the deep fryer has developed a leak, my uncle in Boise passed away. I have to fight to keep a sense of contentment, thankfulness, sanity. Reading Anne Lamott is a very helpful thing to do in times like this - she wrote that the two best prayers she knows are "Thank you, thank you, thank you," and "Help me, help me, help me."
So today I needed to sit down for a moment to write this, to say thank you for libraries, for bread, for cats, for the way the world smells when it rains hard in the spring. All of these things help.
melting
optimistic