Days 65-67: My house has hardwood floors and a little tile flooring sprinkled in here and there. I really love the soft look of the wood, sliding across in warm socks and even the click of dog toenails as the pack follows me around the house. Brooming the floors is a simple task but it always reminds me of life lived here. In the crevasses of the boards there is the sand and soil of Colorado land, dog fur, crumbs and the occasional wink of glitter. The wind blows in, the dogs shed off, people laugh while eating cake or muffins and sometimes there is a reason to open the box marked “Celebrate Everything” that is filled with confetti, glitter, beads and sequins. Yes, we have tossed it in the house. Yes, it’s impossible to sweep it all up. No, I don’t mind. As I was sweeping today, I was reminded that my pretty floors arrived via a tough time. We had flooding in the basement 5-6 years ago and I was able to squeeze the insurance dollars into basement repairs and flooring for the rest of the house. It was an unexpected mess that became a real gift. I’ve been complaining about the properties of aging but lost sight of the home repair grant that I got only because I’m older.
I have been looking at relationships through a different lens, too. I want the solitude and I want people around me. I like being alone and it gets lonely. Talk about fickle. But it’s where I am right now. In the past few weeks several people I know have died. They were old and long-lived and young and brought to closure far too quickly. It reminded me that I’m here and breathing and whether I am accomplishing things speedily or slowly at least I have the chance. I can focus on the flour dusting the floor or focus on the honeyed flavor of the perfect loaf of challah my son baked for us. I can think about having a rough week or focus on the kind of support and friendship I had during the week. I’ve had texts and a couple of phone calls. Even an IM with a link to an article telling me that one’s blog writing can be improved with orgasms. Two people reached out and told me that things written here mattered. Another person said they want to get to know me better. When I was a kid growing up in chaos, in a house in the alley, I would have more easily believed in finding buried treasure than possessing such a strong circle of friends.
Tomorrow I move forward and start again. I’m planning to smudge the house tomorrow. I will use cedar and sage and a few other herbs and maybe a pinch of glitter from the “Celebrate Everything” box to remind myself that change is in the air and that, in itself, is reason enough to be happily content.