There is this beautiful poem by Alison Luterman titled Morning Song. The first part of the poem describes every morning type of stuff...
"toddler pedaling furiously on a tricycle,"
"The last of winter's rain"
a mention of coffee and clasped fingers
I started to make a list of my every morning type of stuff:
The glistening of breakfast dishes that need to be loaded.
Water in a mason jar, cup #3.
A bright red cardinal on a leafless branch bathing in the sun.
Silence that echos once everyone leaves for school
broken by the rhythmic sound of the drier turning.
Towards the end of Luterman's poem are these lines that I've been thinking about since I heard it:
"I'm scared to confess to happiness.
I know the jealous Fates in their dolorous Heaven,
how they love to feast on the heart.
I know they've already marked the spot
where one of us dies
and the other stands open-mouthed
and uncomprehending as dirt closes over our one song.
But for just this moment I want what I have."
"I'm scared to confess to happiness....
But for just this moment I want what I have."
Death comes for everyone, no one is immune to it. If I have the honor to live, I have the honor to die. But what a great description of happiness the contentment with what we have now, the every day little things.
I'll keep adding to my "every day little things list".
Like making Valentines Day cards with my kiddos.
The aroma of bananas, apples and oranges in my kitchen.
Laughter and smiles that change with missing teeth.
I am not afraid to confess to happiness.
For this moment I want what I have.
