I have today, now, this moment to treasure. And then nothing.
This time, this place, these people (or this person) — or never, nowhere, no one.
What do I value? See what surrounds me, where I am, what I do, who is with me.
What do I believe? My work, my life, my heart express the essence of my in-most thoughts.
Do I do great things? Or little things? And who decides what is worthy? Do I count as success only that which brings accolades — or that which pleases me?
I walked out in the garden this morning, pulled a few weeds, admired that last rose on the persistent shrub with its self-made nosegays, counted the spiderwebs hanging like solar diagrams on the buddleia (four) and threw a ball, a stick, a toy for the dogs.
I picked up the litter from the drive. I wandered through the house, putting this thing away, setting this other aside for later.
I checked through the mail — a note from a friend, unsolicited recycling materials, a bit of news.
I deconstructed a little more of the water-damaged wall in my office and disturbed a small (maybe a few month’s old) ant nest when I removed a bit of insulation. I set the window open to push the dust outside — or does it push it further inside? No matter, the house was cooler.
I read, I played, I cleaned, IÂ rested, I dreamt.
Today, here, with my dogs at my side, I waited for my family to return home.