I am weepy today, right now actually.

It is that weepy that comes when grace, or gratitude, or wonder, executes a perfect blindside tackle, and you go down – but softly – covered by a pile of puppies.

Which is the good kind of ‘being blindsided’.

Nothing big happened, and yet all the little things (that are often the biggest things) unfolded in their normally soft and unremarkable ways… but I was paying attention.

I recorded a mental list.

Here is my transcription…

• JoHn has his very first business trip since the beginning of our Covid-related isolations and lockdowns. Over the past few days, he’s shared the mundane details of traveling, from why it made more sense to drive to New York rather than fly, which route he’d take, that he – literally – had to dust off his suit and shoes. Had the trip happened any time before March, 2020, neither of us would have considered the details all that important (also, there would have been less dust). These were everyday things, these trips now and again. But now? Well. JoHn left this morning to go and be with other human beings, to work on things… together. And they’ll be having dinner afterward, to relax… together. We kissed goodbye before he left, and then I went out into the yard with the dogs so we could wave. And it was an awesome, normal thing.

• I had coffee with a friend. It was a last minute, ‘hey why don’t you come over for a cup of coffee’ thing. And it was one of those conversations where my strange, weird, inner self felt perfectly understood by her own. Somewhere along our words, we stepped into that level of connection that finds me smiling at odd times into this afternoon.

• I began wondering when the folks who were in the middle of locating and fixing my roof’s elusive leak were going to return. It’s been a few weeks, and the demand for all the construction trades here is sky high. Everyone is so busy (which has been a godsend for folks putting food on their tables), and little jobs are hard to schedule. As I settled into my writing room chair, thrilled at this day of non-lonely-aloneness and what it might do for the ongoing three-ring circus perpetually hosted by my brain, the dogs went crazy. BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK! Yep. The crew was here. Dammit. But… then… not dammit. They were here… and this project would be done. I made chocolate chip cookies, and was thanked with surprise and smiles.

• I went into the gardens with the dogs and noticed that the lilac leaves unfurled overnight, and the misty blue-purple panicles are forming. Soon, all along the walkway between the house and barn will be filled with the smells of my grandmother’s garden hedge.

I noticed all of these things and, when I sat down to write about them, I was so full that it felt my heart wasn’t capable of taking even one more bite.

Then the smallest weight settled on my right foot, and I looked down.

I have not had a dog’s head resting on my foot, as I wrote, for many years. It’s not a position that every dog chooses. But now… like, right now… my napping hound’s head feels warm and trusting, perfectly content to ride out the time I’m taking to write out my quiet thanks…

Until that dang red squirrel shows up at the door again, of course.

But until then…

Dang.

It’s been a really great day.

Thanks for readin’.

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