So. Here we are. Most of us began our day (dreary if you are on the east coast) with some sort of ritual. We drank our coffee, or our tea, or we are one of the few who drinks neither never forgetting that it goes against the norm. Most of us woke up, that is for sure. What was that like? What is it like to wake up? Mostly it is a foggy time. Some of us are happy to wake from those strange and vivid morning dreams. Some of us wake lazily and stretch and enjoy the way our bed sheets and blankets feel on our skin. Some of us wake quickly to the cries of mean and grumpy children. And a few lucky ones wake to kisses.
But some of us don't wake up at all. For some of us it was the last night...last night....and the morning did not come.
And some of us are waking cold, and homeless, and full of fear and anxiety. I always have to remind myself of that.
Some of us will die today. Some of us will lose people we love. Some of us will be lucky, some not so much.
All of us will belong to each other. We will all suffer and delight in different ways. We will ache and complain, we will rejoice and we will eat.
All in all, it will be an extraordinary day. It will hold everything you could ever imagine you would ever need inside of its layers. Just look! See what this miraculous new day holds for you.
My grandmother is ninety two years old. She never stops complaining about being so old. All she talks about is being old, old, old.
I had another grandmother I never met. I am named after her. She died at thirty nine. That is one year older than I am right now, and younger than many of my friends. I remind my grandmother of this fact way too often. I try to remind her that being old is a luxury.
She begs to disagree. I am not so sure.
This week a good friend of some people I love died too young. I did not know him. I was drawn to the tragedy as most people are. We do seem so curious about loss. It is intriguing. It makes us into rubber neckers. I ache for them, my grieving friends.
And it serves as an example, no? Cliche or not. This loss gives me one more example about layers of life for my long suffering grandmother. And it gives me one more reason to figure out a way to wake up tomorrow with a little more joy and a little less aggravation.
On another note:
Work in Progress almost complete. Secret novelist exposed.