Within the confines of my current life situation, I am finding that little things have plenty of meaning. Where previously I might never have paid attention, for instance, to my peeling porch swing, I now find myself unable to take my eyes away from the paint job it so desperately needs.
I haven’t had time for that porch swing for ages. When we renovated the outside of our home years ago, I painted it bright red. It was a nice contrast to the white siding, blue trim, and blue shutters on the house. Seemed like a good idea at the time. The trim around my house is still blue, but that porch swing has really faded. Right now it’s in the basement, being primed for a fresh coat of paint.
I have always paid attention to certain things in my house, such as my plants, including my gardenia, cleanliness, organization, and good meals. Staying on top of things is important to me, even if I over do this to a certain extent. But lately, with more free time on my hands, and the world a little scarier, I find myself a bit more grateful, and well, humble.
I always read the messages inside of my favorite chocolates, but rarely did I keep them. Lately, I find myself not only reading them, but saving them. Those little pieces of silver foil are all over my house. Their tiny messages are my little inspirations of hope. Yes, I’ve certainly read them before but lately, why are they so poignant?
This one says, “Book the flight.” Well, how can I? The pandemic has shut just about everything down, including flights. We have no idea when we are going to be able to be on vacation again. Thankfully I didn’t have any big plans. Still, I keep this one because optimistically I think, we will book flights again someday.
“Live your life every day with no regrets. It’ll be worth it.” Now, this makes sense. I’m not doing much of anything so there’s less to regret. I’m happy with a warm cup of coffee, my slippers, and a good piece of chocolate.
“Keep life moving forward, looking backward is only for time travelers.” Another bit of sensible advice. Although memories, right now, can be comforting. I’m thinking about going through a box of old pictures some evening. (I’ve been meaning to do that for awhile now)
This last one, “Hands are meant to be held”, can probably make me cry if I think too much about it. I haven’t hugged my adult children in almost four weeks. I have been lightly hugging my mother but no kissing on the cheek as we always did. The first week or two of quarantine, I barely embraced my husband, likely out of some paralysis over the whole virus scare. Finally, I said to him one day, “I need a hug.” We squeezed each other and I’m hugging him more often.
This situation, this pandemic, has caused so much change in our lives. To avoid holding hands, hugging, and embracing one other is hard. I can’t wait to get back to physical contact. Until then, I’ll keep reading (and saving) those messages in my chocolates.
Opening photo credit- Christiann Koepke.
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