I’ve been complaining a lot lately, as if I’ve developed a bad habit like biting my nails or squinting.
It’s dawned on me, there are so many things in this world that put a smile on my face.
The sun for starters; to feel it on bare shoulders strolling down the street like an old friend you wish would stay awhile.
A long, hot shower after the day is done. There’s nothing like slipping into fresh pajamas with sweet smelling hair and damp skin sliding between soft, clean sheets.
Carmela the basset hound, or any animal for that matter. Each day when visiting Rosie the cat hearing her morning meow, I’m happy kneeling down to stroke her soft, shiny coat. She circles my legs waiting for the treat I always give her. I leave brighter, she fuller with joy in both our step.
If I even catch a glimpse of Carmela tubing by her ears swaying side to side, my heart lifts. If I’m lucky enough for a close encounter my day is made.
Central Park is another daily transfusion. Last I ran prior to this perilous snowfall, two cardinals, a male and female, sat nearby watching me stretch. They were so close, I could have touched them. Not only was it glorious to be running, but nature threw in her two cents as well.
She must have taken her meds that morning.
Italian food: I’d walk a mile for a plate of linguine cooked in garlic and oil…a stuffed artichoke with Parmesan and parsley on the side. Good bread dipped in olive oil dripping down my chin. Yes, the peasant in me comes out when my Italian lets loose.
You should see the tablecloth.
Tiramisu for dessert with biscotti dunked in its lavish cream. I always feel my granddad close by eating as though I were five. A retired baker who still baked and cooked every day loving nothing more then to make something special for his favorite, fat granddaughter.
Yes, I was quite chubby as a child often comparing myself to a cookie jar having not much neck.
Wine: oh my, if I could slurp it intravenously I would. But good wine…Chianti, Merlot, Pinot Noir served in a beautiful glass glistening, gleaning the light.
A little black dress, its simplicity simmering me down sorting out all my upsets.
Kitten heels clicking on the pavement…pearls peeking from my ears.
Books: Vigilant friends reminding me I’m interested in new things, or old ones yet to be discovered bobbing like buoys on my nightstand.
To quote what John Adams told his young son Quincy…you’ll never be alone as long as you have a book beside you.
Writing: to sit at my desk…a giant piece of scratched plywood across two metal filing cabinets…a blank page knowing in an hour or two will be filled with thoughts en route expressing themselves through my fingertips.
But the big one that comes crashing through the door remains in first place…
to be in love…hit by thunder by another who wanders into your life as if you both knew all along you’d meet, just not sure when.
Your legs tremble, your heart pounds. Suddenly you’re shopping for new lingerie you plan to cook in while he watches perched on your bed like a heroic king. Flowers are everywhere…sent by him…bought by you…and all that was missing has returned as if it had never left..it was there all along behind Carmela’s ears and Rosie’s purr… where the cardinals sat keeping you company on a crisp winter day.
In that glass of red and on your plate of morsels it murmured, but you weren’t paying attention…
but you are now.
What do you love…tell me.