Today

I have today, now, this moment to treasure.  And then nothing.

This time, this place, these people (or this person) — or never, nowhere, no one.

What do I value?  See what surrounds me, where I am, what I do, who is with me.

What do I believe?  My work, my life, my heart express the essence of my in-most thoughts.

Do I do great things?  Or little things?  And who decides what is worthy?  Do I count as success only that which brings accolades — or that which pleases me?

I walked out in the garden this morning, pulled a few weeds, admired that last rose on the persistent shrub with its self-made nosegays, counted the spiderwebs hanging like solar diagrams on the buddleia (four) and threw a ball, a stick, a toy for the dogs.

I picked up the litter from the drive.  I wandered through the house, putting this thing away, setting this other aside for later.

I checked through the mail — a note from a friend, unsolicited recycling materials, a bit of news.

I deconstructed a little more of the water-damaged wall in my office and disturbed a small (maybe a few month’s old) ant nest when I removed a bit of insulation.  I set the window open to push the dust outside — or does it push it further inside?  No matter, the house was cooler.

I read, I played, I cleaned, I  rested, I dreamt.

Today, here, with my dogs at my side, I waited for my family to return home.

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