As I write, the expectation in my neighborhood is a gift from Mother Nature of 24-inches of light snow, possible thunder and lightning, and gale force winds of 50-80 mph. Hunkered down, fresh second round of decaf coffee brewing, kitty cat on my lap, warm in flannel PJs on and fleece-lined hoodie, I give thanks. To the Source that provided a warm and safe home for my family, to the new heated individual shelter homes that just finished building after camp tents on Mass and Cass in Boston were removed, and to the animal shelters keeping those dear beings safe.
I softly soothe the part of me that worries about power outages with a reminder of our dear friends close by with a fireplace, lots of wood, and sleeping bags. We can pack up the kitties and head over there. Thank you.
So in addition to all devices charging, 6+ new books purchased from the library for $1 each, we are safe, warm, content, and feeling a serendipitous joy at being. Zooming with the grandkid reading “Walter the Farting Dog,” another $1 purchase, is delightful!
Mid-November I decided to log out of all social media for 3 months and instead write a gratitude card to someone every morning. I surprised myself at folks I thought of, tender words they shared, or recognizing something good in me. I’m not logging back in. Real Simple magazine polled readers asking what their post-pandemic lives will look like. “I’ll never go back to going to every event, every party, and saying yes to every invitation,” “I only want to spend time with a smaller group of people now,” and “I just don’t have the patience to put up with the stuff I used to.”
I’m off now to be introspective and write in my Covid-19 diary I started March 13, 2020 to record the events of feelings, affects, and how we got through it. The focus of the journal entry will be “What is today teaching me about how to live tomorrow?
It’s a blustery, snowy day. I’m safe. The simple provisions are enough. I offer gratitude.