Procrastination as Meditation, Revisited

Note:  The following is actually the post I wrote last year on Good Friday.  The air around our little estate feels a little ragged of late, a little tight.  There are worries, and decisions, and lots and lots of questions.  The first couple weeks of April are also the anniversaries of the days on which both of our fathers died, a year apart from each other.  There is sadness mixed in with the spring blossoms, and tension this year where new growth and hope should be.  Just to give you an idea:  yesterday I got to thinking about Good Friday, and actually thought to myself, “Wow.  Isn’t it funny that Good Friday falls on a Friday again this year? How often does that happen?”  I’m telling you, I may very well be losing my mind.  But you suspected that already.  So partly because I’m sort of brain-zonked, and partly because I like the point I think I was making, I give you this, a year later.  Funny how life changes and stays the same.  Oh, and those house plants?  All of them, gone.  Are you surprised?

Procrastination as Meditation

Because it is Good Friday, and because I’m trying desperately not to get all anxious-pants about the to-do list I have before me, I’m taking a moment to ponder a little some of the good bits in my life. And because you read, so I share:

  • A husband who cleans bathrooms. Even if he weren’t cute and smart and charming and funny I still would’ve married him on this alone.
  • House plants that are brand spankin’ new. I so enjoy them for the week I have before I neglectfully kill them all dead.
  • Books. Except for the one I’m reading right now, because it’s terrible. I will not trouble you with its title. These were pretty good, though:
  • A sweet daughter who says “wack-oom” instead of “vacuum.” And “lel-low” instead of “yellow.” And “boo-ful” instead of “beautiful.”
  • A home with blue walls and lots of light.
  • Chocolate-chip-cinnamon sugar banana bread, eaten by the fistful, preferably with milk.
  • A beautiful baby who, at almost 11 months old, wears 24-month clothes, has no teeth and cannot crawl. And because of this last minor inconvenience, this particular baby does a mean scoot-to-belly-flop maneuver that makes us laugh…and also shows us that our idiosyncrasies are the best stuff of us.
  • My camera, because in about 10 years I get to remind the girls of how much they used to love to play together:
  • Easter. For its pretty dresses, and happy mass, and family around the dining room table. For the Easter bunny, and treasure hunts in the backyard, and Cadbury eggs. For the reminder that love conquers all, hardship is temporary, and that sometimes we just have to wait and see what good stuff is coming around the corner.
Good Friday, indeed.

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