Daylight

Moving into daylight now. It is darkest before the dawn. Yes, a metaphor, but it's also true. Especially in winter.

The trees are so still and not a bird or a whisper of anything living out there. Then the light starts coming to the horizon and I see a parka bundled neighbor walking their dog, a sparrow flying with some urgency to somewhere, headlights going to work, even the wind seems to be yawning and making some stretching movement toward wakefulness as there is the slightest breeze I can see it in the movement of the giant evergreen across the street. And ofcourse the squirrels peeking out of their leaf houses... some naturalist told me once that those bundles of leaves in the tops of trees are not really squirrel nests. I told her that she better come and tell my squirrels that because they have squatted in various ones all winter around my house.

I guess I should be annoyed by the gnats that fly around my head when the bananas get too ripe, I should probably stomp my foot about something I didn't get my way over. I could probably be really angry that I washed every last dish in my sink and went out to find dishes in the living room from Nick's late night snacking, I could be troubled by the school system, an angry driver, the war, the mayhem, the pain and disaster ... But man, the smell of bacon permeates the kitchen, I poured fresh cream in my soup, the teakettle whistles, I have a huge apple ready for slicing, all the clothes are freshly washed and wait to be tenderly folded, sewing lets my fingers and hands make a gift for my dear friend, a call from my sister out of the blue letting me love her, a drummer drumming, a kitty purring in my lap, a sweet note from a friend ...

I read something the other day and it was so beautiful and it is where I live now. This is my heart: "There are an awful lot of reasons in the world to feel bad right now, but how amazing is it that we each have this remarkable built-in capacity for pure joy?"