It’s early morning and I should be arranging flights interstate to attend the funeral on Monday, but I’m in the grip of inertia and can’t find the energy to get going. What to do? Write a gratitude list, of course.
In this moment, I am grateful:
- that time sometimes slumps, and sometimes flies
- that we can remember a life well lived; memory is indeed something to value
- for sleep without drugs, and for the skills which allow me to enjoy it, however fleetingly
- to my ever-generous parents. I didn’t need help this time, but appreciate you offering nonetheless
- that relationships are rarely set in stone. They’re rubbery, elastic, weirdly plastic things; non-Newtonian fluids
- to my therapist who, not knowing my grandmother had died, called before he went on leave with the name of someone else I could talk to in extremis, if necessary
- for the wonder that is libraries: books! Books! BOOKS!
- for tea in the pot and food in the pantry; because, like birth, death and kindness, it’s these “simple” things which are the stuff of life.
I hope that, whenever your Friday arrives, it is a good day. I trust that mine will be.