March 10, 2021
I do believe that spring, more
or less, has arrived. Patches of matted, bludgeoned grass are appearing here and
there after what feels like a very long time. Patches only, at this point, because
the snow has been melting very slowly, and there is more ice visible than can possibly
be healthy for the lawn overall.
At just after ten-thirty yesterday
morning, the weather network indicated that our outside temperature was 41 but
felt like 37. Not so bad, because it was above freezing. It was headed for a
balmy 52. Today’s prediction is for the thermometer to reach 59. And if it does, this will be the first two-day
warm stretch this year.
We were officially off our
long “stay-at-home” order here in Ontario on February 16th. It began last year, on December 26th.
Though the order has been lifted, we’re expected to continue to act
responsibly. One can’t go running all over the place. It’s still suggested that
we restrict our movements—or more precisely, our “associating”. And, of course,
we must wear masks when out, and maintain social distancing.
On the whole, this lockdown
was not a problem for David or me because, as I am sure no one who knows us
will be surprised to read, we kind of enjoy the hermit life. And that really
applies to me just a bit more than to my husband. Because, you see, with yesterday
being a day that promised to be warmer, David announced early that he could no
longer deny the urge to “associate” with a large order of fries with gravy.
There’s a small restaurant in
town that features take-out. Burgers and fries and subs and salads and, because
the original owners were Greek, gyros and souvlaki are on the menu, too. In the
past, David has ridden his scooter down to the heart of our small town,
purchased those fries with gravy, and then scooted straight home again.
At the kitchen table, those
fries are still hot when he sits down to devour them. The experience gives him
a happy tummy and therefore, a happy mood. Such was the case for him yesterday.
He did remark that their “large” fries were a bit less large than the last time
he bought them. Likely, they’ve made changes with the goal of saving money. It’s
good, in fact, that they’re still in business. He made those happy tummy
sounds, so that’s what’s important.
He then capped off his
adventure by taking his coffee out onto the front porch. He took the pups with
him, and the three of them spent a good half hour there.
David’s activities yesterday aligned
with something I’ve been thinking about a lot, lately. In life, for most of us,
it’s not the big things that get us, it’s the little things. And because that
is so, it’s also the little things, I believe, that most people seem to be
missing most keenly after a year of pandemic-altered existence.
I think there’s an argument to
be made that it is the generally the small things in life that make life
special. I might have a horrific job that I hate and co-workers I wouldn’t have
in my house, but if I have my Friday night favorite television show and a bowl
of popcorn—or chips and salsa, or whatever it is I define as a treat—then I’m
good.
The drudge of week-to-week
balancing of the bills might be a long, slow chokehold on me as I juggle
everything, and do my best to stay cheerful, but if I can have that one weekly two-dollar
lottery ticket, then I have something that gives me a bit of hope and sees me
through.
It's long been my belief that
if I think things will never ever get better, then life loses that little bit of
sparkle that I need. I believe that and I think a lot of other people do, too.
Yes, the big things that have happened
to us—losing a job because of the pandemic and still being out of work for
months on end—can cause deep anxiety and worry. Yes, not being able to hold our
grandchildren close for so long is an awful, gut-wrenching wound to the heart.
But most of us do understand, deep down, that we will get those big things back,
eventually. At some point we’ll get a new job, and then a better job. And with
the vaccinations happening, we know we’ll once more be able to hug our loved
ones close like we used to.
I believe that with this
pandemic, we are in the home stretch.
Sometimes, for whatever
reason, we may lose some of our little things and it is in those moments we
feel the heavy weight of all that we’ve lived through the last twelve months. But
the good news is that if some of our little things disappear, we can replace
them. If the days and weeks of isolation squash those little pleasures we once
held dear, that we counted on to cheer us, to fuel us to face one more day, we
can find other little things.
Because those things or
routines, or whatever they might be, are choices we have made. We endow those
routines and small treats with the power to lift us, and that’s a decision,
too. We are ultimately the source of our own inspiration.
There is light at the end of
the tunnel. The vaccines are rolling out. It will be a few months more, yet until
most of the population of our countries and the rest of the world will be
vaccinated.
Until that day arrives, we need
those little things to see us through. Don’t brush them off as unimportant. Cherish
them, because they’ve proven their worth.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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