18 Days Into This – It is unlikely anyone would ever mistake me for Pollyanna. It’s true that if you tell me you have a stockpile of lemons I will remind you of the joy of lemon pie piled high with meringue, the excellent properties of lemon as a cleaning agent, and a Brazilian folk song about the prettiness of a lemon tree. However, I think I’m a little more Louisa Mae Alcott.  I know you’re thinking of the syrupy Little Women books but did you know she absolutely hated them?  She was pretty much the sole breadwinner for her parents and sisters.  When she was between books she hired out as a housekeeper.  She wrote what sold to her little girl fans but took great pleasure in the books she wrote under pseudonyms—dark murder mysteries and steamy romance novels.  I think she had her joys and satisfactions– just not when anyone was looking.

I was sick last night and most of today.  I spent a lot of time petting the dogs and daydreaming about things to accomplish once I am feeling better.  I realized that I was okay being present with my bodily aches alone in my home.  I wasn’t lonely. I read.  I let the warmth of my dogs pressed against my back and feet lull me to sleep and woke up feeling better.  It was quiet and I was just present with the silence. It made the conversation I shared with my BFF this evening more valuable–even though we didn’t talk about anything too remarkable.  I was content to be present with what was supposed to be a lemon of a day.  Did you ever notice how even a bitter lemon has a rind the color of sunshine?

“The greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances.” – Martha Washington