Walking home from the grocery store tonight, a light dusting of snow coming down, I felt so tremendously lucky. New York has had so much snow this year--at least more than in recent years. And everyone is so very tired of it. But, can I let you in on a little secret? I'm not. I recognize that I don't have to shovel anything or drive anywhere, so in that sense I'm in the lucky position that I get to love it--no strings attached. But it's more than that. There's something about snow and how it warms the air and makes everything feel clean, if only for a moment. It is a pause. A deep inhale. So while the world was inhaling tonight as I walked home, I couldn't help but think just how lucky I am. Headed to an apartment I love. Where I would put flowers in water and place a pizza in the oven and pipe music through the small space with no one to tell me to turn it down.
It's the small things. Always, the small things.
It's having Saturday and Sunday off, always. It's visiting places I know so well and seeing them through new eyes. It's a pair of heels--nice heels--and how they make me feel. It's revisiting an old book. It's the event that is coffee, day after day, morning after morning. It's making new friends and visiting with old.
It's this moment in time. And knowing it won't last forever. But giving thanks that I get it for as long as I do.