Friday, March 23, 2018
Actually, there are no ordinary days. Every day is extraordinary. I am glad for each one that I encounter when I wake, whether gray or sunny it really doesn't matter to me. I get another chance and that is all that matters.
My roommate brought home a begonia with the palest peach blossoms.
My daughter sent me a sweet letter heavy with her golden heart.
I listened to the downstairs tenant tell me all about the new exercise pants that he got on line and he was smiling and happy because I listened with genuine interest.
My sister called with some sad news and we shared a moment of tenderness that we don't always get to experience.
I brought home Paul Newman's pizza and shared it with my roommate and she actually liked it. It was so good to see her enjoy something American.
I was sick last night, but it's gone today.
Yesterday I built a planter for the strawberries that I will plant on the deck and admired it's perfect imperfection each time I walked past the window.
An ordinary life, in an ordinary, extraordinary day.