Not going to lie, things have been sort of rough for folks in my neck of the woods for the past few weeks. I’ve been doing the best I can to try to support, to be there, to listen, to sit in patience and silence, to adapt and offer what is needed, what will help.
And today, despite my extreme dislike of Christmas and all the holiday hoo-de-hah, I climbed through the shelves of a WalMart, over and through and around pallets of trees not yet un-packed or shelved, and I got stuck – yes, I did, but managed to get the requested tree off a VERY tall non-display pile, and into the car, and home and set up and decorated.
And I smiled. And I even stayed in the room while the Peanuts Christmas Special – WHICH I LOATHE AND DESPISE – played. I made dinner. I spent quality time and assured people I was okay.
I am okay. I’m great. Dinner is over. And in the past twenty-four hours I have been told that my chocolate chip cookies have too much salt. And I wish I could tell you how that sentence destroyed me. But that would be whining. And you know what, NO THEY DON’T.