There are no great things,
only small things with great love.
Happy are those.
A muted morning in my world.
My mother and I have been mindful to take better care of ourselves - and each other - since I've been here. Better than we had been. For some reason, this is involving lots of yogurt, almonds, cinnamon and wheat germ. I can't complain. The small things with great love mean everything right now. Happy are those.
Yesterday we drove over to Freeman House together and began packing. I won't pretend as if it was enjoyable. Having until August first to be out of the house so the new owner can move in, I don't have the luxury of calm, reflective packing. And maybe that's a good thing. I hastily shove things - books, yesterday - into boxes, wrestling the boxes closed and sealing them with a flourish of (twisted) tape. But not everything will be stored away. I spent several hours last night listing books on Amazon. (If anyone's curious to see the books I've begun selling off, they are here.) A plan is presenting itself to me and, as exciting as it is, it does involve massive downsizing.
More on the plan later. It is, I'll admit, delightful. Not my first choice, to be sure, but a beauty of an alternative nonetheless. We'll discuss it later this week.
I'm off to the store now to buy more yogurt. Looking forward to many muted mornings to come.