Falling in love with the simplest parts of life
The presidential election — how will it turn out? Will “my” side win? What will I do if the “other” party wins? And then there are those shoulder-shrugging people who say, “Who cares.”
In the middle of the frantic urge to panic — the flutter of word clutter — the incessant listening to news and views — and the highs and lows of the latest polls, there is this, a quote I saw on social media. “Maybe the real happy ending is falling in love with the simplest parts of life.”
Just what I need — as an inundated voter in the week before this rollercoaster election — to celebrate “the simplest parts of life.” Let's start with last night. I stepped outside to a Milky Way river running through a vast pasture of stars — the Big Dipper balancing on the mountain ridge. I practically fell over backward craning my neck to take in all the beauty.
It felt like Psalm 27, which speaks of beholding the “beauty of the Lord.” Beauty translates here as “delightfulness.” Maybe not a word associated with God often enough. Last night I was alive in His delightfulness.
I just finished the second of two cataract surgeries. I asked the ophthalmologist at the next day's follow up, “Did I say I had the aurora in my eye?” “Yes, you did,” he said. There were bright colors flashing as he placed the spectacular intraocular lens. People around the world go blind from cataracts — I was headed there. But I have something called “access” — and someone who cared to study eyes. I hope to visually graze in that vast pasture of stars for many more years.
Two friendly guys came to paint the house — a house we share with its owners. I wanted to thank them for a kindness they did, so I made my pudding dessert — the one with layers of pudding and graham crackers and a thin coating of hot chocolate frosting on top. They took some home. The next thing I know the wife of one wanted the recipe for her Thanksgiving dessert. How simple is that. I'll smile come November wondering if she's using vanilla or banana.
Tomorrow is a trip to Bonners Ferry with my Pens and Friends writing group. The destination — my favorite Bonners Books. No one else in the group has been there. I'm eager to show it off — and pick up a much-anticipated book the owner, Brett, has waiting for me. The creaky hardwood floors — the resident black cat — the tall shelves crammed with books —the reading chair tucked beneath the staircase — it's a place I never usually want to leave.
Our oldest grandson works in Alaska's Arctic. In his spare time he's agreed to compose music for some song lyrics I wrote. I always love upbeat — accidental pun! — personal connections. I never dreamed of something like this between us but why not. Relationships spin on all kinds of wheels. It is so worth keeping them oiled.
I'm noticing this time of year small things like the tang of woodsmoke — the tamaracks turning yellow — the taste of a good elk chili — the warmth of a new-to-me jacket.
Yes, there's a presidential election about to happen, but there is also life — in its simple, glorious beauty. It is all around me — a love story — waiting for me to give it a happy ending.