I try my best every day to notice and appreciate the good little things in life. It grounds me, and centers me. Last night we walked down to the movies, and it was nice to have that quiet time together, to point out things of interest along the way ("there’s the credit union, and the library, and the gutted building they’re restoring") and notice the flowers in people’s yards and the falling-off shorts of the girl walking in front of us (youngsters these days!). Even better was the walk home, discussing the film, and noticing the dark and quiet of our little enclave in the valley as we approached. We were very lucky to get this place, despite its flaws. I realize that more every day.

Living so close to work has shifted my entire attitude. Even though the commute from the old place was just a little over two miles, the bad driving behavior I encountered every day between point A and point B was enough to start my day off on the wrong foot. I have little patience for stupid or selfish drivers, and they can blacken my mood quicker than just about anything. I know that my commute was nothing compared to those of you who commute many miles, sometimes an hour or more each way -- I’m not fooling myself here -- but I can still be grateful that my commute is down to walking out our driveway and crossing the street.

Even better than that, though, is being able to go home at lunchtime, and having that hour’s oasis in the middle of the day to eat a decent lunch and read a book or make a phone call or take a nap in my very own space and not at my desk. I’m eating much better because of it, and certainly spending less money on lunches out. I’ve written before about how some of my coworkers would comment on what I had for my lunch and how much that irritated me. Problem solved.

It’s fun, too, to watch the kids at the elementary school next door from our windows, especially the younger ones who haven’t yet grown self-conscious and join their friends in skipping from the parking lot into the cafeteria in the mornings. The school bells resound through our house and together with our tan linoleum kitchen floor bring back memories of multiplication tables and tetherball and learning about Australia (which might as well be on another planet when you’re 7) and playing with Laura Kelm’s horses in our corner of the playground and getting picked to be the one to take the attendance sheets to the office. (And being called four-eyes and feeling socially inept -- hell, admit it, BEING socially inept -- and crying at the drop of a hat and getting picked last for teams in gym and generally just being a geeky, gawky bundle of nerves.) And being the only kindergartener allowed to take books out from the school library and winning a regional prize for my art project in 2nd grade and loving being in the choir for the plays and having Jimmy Fugate (who is no longer in this world) pitch nickels across Fair Street at me on the way home one afternoon. Somehow that last was a good thing.

Those kids, those friends from so long ago -- I'm grateful for them. Lora, Karin, Matt, Davy J., Davy F., Laura, Kim, Adrienne, Cheryl, Cindi, Neighbor Dave, Annette, Andrew -- who could possibly forget Andrew, who moved in next to Cindi and turned us all on our heads -- even Kelly and Lisa, who changed their minds about being friends with me each time the wind changed direction -- they’ve all made me who I am today. We all affected each other, perhaps profoundly or just a little, perhaps positively or negatively, but made a mark nonetheless. I hope I’ve made more positive marks than negative on those accountants and diplomats and scientists and artists and bartenders and filmmakers and plain good people that they’ve become.
- posted by Lori @ 9:06:00 PM | permanent link | |