living

There are many days of sunshine and mild temperatures, many walks to take advantage of said sunshine and mild temperatures, many days in this week, seven to be exact. The days are filled with fresh air and flowers and green-green-green, filled with making meals and mulching garden beds and not watering the house plants (oops), filled with reading and writing and staring out the window. I think I use these days wisely, though I bristle at the sound of ‘using’ my days, will say instead that I am living them fully, at least trying.

There’s a small group who gathers with me in the weirdly wonderful space of Zoom, a gathering that is quiet, comfortable, intimate. We see each other on our screens but also: really, actually, truly, see each other in stories shared – awareness that blooms after putting pen to page, memories that rise to the surface like cream. It is an hour (oh, the astonishing living that can happen in one hour!) of living fully.

Messages come in the form of emails from friends as well as those known distantly or somewhere in between; in the form of poems and passages and plots; in the form of a yellow butterfly that flits before us as we walk along the river on a Sunday afternoon. Certain words make appearances – presence, allowing, courage, letting go – and I scribble them into my journal, carry them in my heart. They are tangy on my tongue as I sample them in scattered conversations throughout the week, this week of seven days, seven days that I (try to) live fully.

One day at a time and all that; times seven; repeat. 

Courage doesn’t always roar.
Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, “I will try again tomorrow.”
~ Mary Anne Radmacher ~

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