But she will dance again someday. And when we're reunited, it will be a joy to watch her recitals, and to dance with her...
Tucker and I took a walk yesterday. And my senses were overwhelmed. Chronically tired and constantly scared, maybe I’ve been missing out. Blind to the golden slant of the evening sun, deaf to the gentle whispers of wind, sleepwalking through the possibility of joy.
Outside, I noticed how intensely colorful the neighbors’ tulips are. Like life turned up the saturation on flora to one hundred percent, a vibrancy created in nature that likely could not be replicated with any photo editing program. School let out while we walked, and youthful voices floated through the air around us, skateboards and bicycles whizzed past.
The colors, the sounds, even the smells… could it be that this is where it all begins, that rest of the world has to put up with leftovers or hand-me-downs? Could the colors be this vivid, the sounds this melodic, the scents this delicious in other parts of the city, let alone the other side of the world? How lucky are we to live right here, to walk these streets, surrounded by such displays of spectacularity?
It felt good to observe goodness, to be grateful for nature's artistry. Being thankful allowed things I'd neglected to notice recently to take on a new life of beauty. Like myself, even. The walk was restorative. It reminded me that soft stirrings of gratitude can silken a difficult path.
As it turns out, Celia also took a walk yesterday. With Aunt Kate and G'Ro and Sebi, her second favorite canine. And she stopped to appreciate nature's beauty, too.
And sure, a walk may remind me to be grateful, may make me feel pretty again, but so can spending time with this spectacular little thing: