It’s been an interesting day. I am pondering how successful I’ve been at eradicating the word “not” from my vocabulary. I have to confess that the previous sentence originally began with the words, “I’m not sure how successful I’ve been…” Dang it! Not is so slippery, sneaking it’s way into sentences and thoughts in completely benign and unobtrusive ways. I shudder to think how many nots in its many variations I managed to say today–a dozen would be a very modest estimate. It seems I had no sooner issued the challenge, but then, as is sometimes my want, promptly forgot all about it. So I will be back at it. Now that I’m aware that I was asleep at the wheel today, I will be much more mindful of what I say as I go through the day tomorrow.
Tonight I find myself once again thinking about the simple things that unfold over the course of a regular kind of day that make it anything but regular. I could curse the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that landed me in the series of unfortunate events that happened in my life last year, or I could be grateful for the beauty of my daughter’s face as she sleeps or the gleam that comes into my son’s eyes when he’s telling a particularly funny story. It’s the delight in a particularly funny passage in the book I am listening to or the burst of sweet-tang I experience when I bite into a cherry. It’s the evensong of the robin who sings outside my window at dusk, or the beauty of the waxing moon when it blazes through my window at night. It’s the sudden surprise reminder at the lovely view I have of the San Pablo Bay every time I turn into my housing development.
Many of these things I am able to enjoy now because of the pain I went through a year ago that pushed me out here where I was not planning to come to live. Because I had to move out of my home of six years and into a two bedroom condo, my daughter has to sleep with me most nights unless she decides to sleep down on the reasonably uncomfortable sofa. Thus, I have the pleasure of watching her sleep, as I enjoyed so very many years ago when she was a sweet baby. Because I lost my job and had too much time on my hands I discovered the beauty of volunteering and have enjoyed working with a wonderful crew of volunteers who surpass the quality and character of many of the people I’ve worked with in paid jobs.
Sometimes I’ve gotten frustrated at how often I am encouraged to see the lessons in all the losses I suffered, to make lemonade out of the lemons, and all those cliches well-meaning people say because they’re uncertain what else to say. But the truth is I choose to see the positives that have emerged from the wreckage of my former life; to do otherwise would be to risk plunging into a self pitying, depressed, angry human being. And that has been unacceptable to me. So I remain grateful in spite of and perhaps in some ways because of all that has happened over the past 18 months or so. This too will pass, all the well-meaning people assure me, and they’re correct, it will pass. But it’s up to me as to how it will pass. To the best of my ability it will be with as much grace and gratitude as I can muster.
(Note: I have highlighted the word not and a particularly devious form of not that I will be hard pressed to eradicate: “Un.” For the most part un, like not is one of those quietly negative prefixes that also wends its way through my language. It is scarcely possible to truly strip the word not and its cousin un from my vocabulary, but it’s a good exercise in learning to speak in the affirmative. It’s hard work, but very worthwhile!
