Words for September 6, 2020: Hope, Sincere, Nerve
It’s the cool and overcast Sunday morning of a quiet long weekend in September. Awakened from a restless and dream troubled sleep by the sounds of the truck backing down the driveway and the garage door rumbling closed with a final dull thud, my dream world slowly fades and the real world takes over.
W is off to his second day of a trap shoot. It took some nerve for him to get into that again because until this year he hadn’t been to the gun club since 2006. So he’s a little rusty. They do their mask wearing and social distancing thing and hope for the best. This is the first late spring to early fall in forever that he’s been stuck here with me. And me with him. So it’s good he’s got a hobby of sorts. He has been looking after the family’s northern Ontario island property every summer since he retired and visiting his parents and helping them keep things going and sorted. Then last October his dad died, and in May his mom left us as well, and the pandemic hit hard and the whole world changed.
A hot shower helps to kick start my brain, bad for my dry skin but good for my old bones. That first cup of coffee tastes like heaven, every single day. May I never take these simple pleasures for granted.
Waking up in the morning. (Think of all the poor souls who didn’t get to do that today). Making my bed with no wrinkles. Having a warm house and a big back yard and a quiet neighborhood and a ridiculous supply of coffee cream. Taking a deep breath into my still healthy lungs. Playing my word game moves with a still functioning mind. Knowing the people I love are okay.
My gratitude is sincere. My life is good. The quiet and the calm are delicious. There are things that need doing and I will do them, but this peace must be savoured first.