The day began like any other day and is ending, as I type, like most of the days that preceded it.
I woke up, made the bed, got dressed, worked some, went to the grocery store, met a friend I hadn't seen in awhile and lived happily.
My family is well.
My friends are well, or are healing.
The sun came up, the sky was blue, I heard church bells, Annie is feeling better.
The day was an ordinary day.
And yet it was extraordinary without my giving it a second thought.
What did I do today to merit such happiness and well being?
What did I do to give thanks for the specialness of such an ordinary, normal, beautiful day?
When did I stop and take it in, that I am alive, that the sky above isn't filled with danger, that above, below and surrounding me there is peace, good things to eat and running water.
Where is my heart and where is your heart? Are they connected?
Did we give more than we received.
I hope so... but I am not sure that I am worthy of claiming that it is true for me.
As the day came to an end, the two pillows sat together like they have had for the last few years, side by side.
Aren't they lucky to have one another? To be together one made of silk and the other of hemp, sharing life on an uncomfortable canape?
I never want to forget what is important to me, to be with others sharing the day to day life of ordinariness, and rejoice it the simple gift of being with one another. Even when it is as at times uncomfortable as the old canape.
Silk and hemp.
Hand in hand.
Side by side.
Excepting the day as gift.