Each morning I wake up. The sun has illuminated the sky from behind the horizon. It will rise soon, an hour earlier (according to timekeeping devices only) starting tomorrow (yuck!) . I lay in bed and thank Yahuah/Yahweh/the LORD/the Creator, that I am alive and have another day to bring joy to him, to hopefully make a difference in the lives I come into contact with throughout the day. I pet the cats, get dressed, fill water bottles for the day, read the newspaper comics section while I eat, then start my day.
Pandemic or no, life has continued with minor changes. I wake up, I do what I do, I go to bed, and start the process the next day after (hopefully) a good night of sleep. My hair continues to get grayer… and thinner… and straighter. I continue to have days when I am happy with my hair, and days when I think it looks old, I should do something different. I just don’t have the mental energy to find a new look, or figure out how to get my old look with new hair. Or, maybe it’s not lack of energy, but a lack of motivation? After all, working in our dusty garage organizing, or out in the garden, my long hair is usually pulled up and out of my face and off my neck for comfort. It’s rare that I have an occasion to look nice. But then, I feel bad that my husband has to see the grungy or freshly showered with wet hair me when he gets home every night. Last night I used a lot of hairspray and curled my tresses for him.
Our grandchildren continued to grow and mature during these unprecedented times too. Yikes! Our oldest is almost my full 5’8” height at 13 years old! What a strange feeling. I don’t remember feeling that weird when our son passed my height. Didn’t have to with our daughter, she is a couple inches shorter than I am. Will they all pass me up in height? Maybe just my sons two oldest? Genetics fascinate me.
Plants continued to grow this year too. Voles continued to create dirt mounds in the lawn area. They even decided to eat the roots of one of my young apple trees this winter. Sad, but true. I found it laying on the ground after some wind. I know it wasn’t the wind, because it wasn’t uprooted, and there were the tell tale mounds of dirt at the base of the tree. Yah willing, they won’t get find the other three tree’s roots as tasty. Maybe I should plant insects in the ground for them so they leave the plants alone. Sigh.
Babies were born last year and are now crawling or walking, eating mush and gooing and cooing to imitate talk. Just like in the past. Cars racked up miles as they were driven. Just like in the past. Businesses stayed open, some closed, some new ones opened. Just like in the past. Trees produced flowers, then pollen (gesundheit!), then leaves, provided shade, the leaves turned colors then fell to the earth. Just like in the past.
Time has passed, and continues to pass. At my age, 55, it sometimes seems to be an alarming rate. I almost feel like 2020 didn’t really happen, but all the signs show it did. Yes, many things changed, masks were worn, telecommuting become common for way more people, less people traveled, etc. But, time continued, each day happened, the changes were just a little more dramatic than we are used to.
I want to be sure not to let the things that did change be my focus. The details of life are always in flux, changing from day to day. Governments change, ways of life change, people change. But, time continues to pass, life continues. As humans, we need hope, something to look forward to. I can be sad because I can’t travel to where part of my family is, or I can be thankful for video calls with said family. I can be angry with governmental changes I don’t agree with, or I can be thankful I don’t live in a war torn nation in Africa. I can be bummed that food prices seem to have doubled overnight, or be thankful I have food and pray for those who don’t. It’s all about perspective.
I wish for this world, an attitude of gratitude. That people could learn to be content with life, with the sun rising and setting each day. To be able to look past the struggle and find something, no matter how small, to be thankful for. Maybe if we all practiced this, this world would be a better place. Maybe.
An Ordinary Life 