Sometimes on Saturday, after a perfectly glorious morning stroll in the brisk Thanksgiving air, we like to enlist our little brother in a lively and verbal game of Act Like You’re Trying To Kill the Other One and, in the midst of being pinned down by his semi-pathetic little teeth we have the thought that we are grateful to have this miniature, rowdy creature in our life.
Yours In Lovely Little Appreciations,
When you’re in the grocery store and I hear you berating the grocery clerk for not having the proper almond milk that you require, don’t try to make smiley face at me in the check out line when we both know that you’re a rude, elitist poo butt.
Do Be a Good Bee,
Dear Mister Ruler of All That’s High and Mighty,
Listen, I know you’re as busy as Donald Trump’s hairstylists, but if you could carve out some time in your schedule, could you make it a point to remind me of the gorgeousness of life. Like that time I thought I would melt in the rain when we were camping, but I didn’t. Or that time I cooked a four course chef-worthy meal for my family that turned out just so. Or that time I looked up at the ceiling at the theater and gasped a breath of beauty simply because of the colors. In all honesty, it’s endless, the places I find and interact with beauty. The way my husband finds the perfect in-between hotel to stay at on our way to a big adventure. Those few moments, after I wrangle myself awake and I have the thought “It’s all very good”. The interactions I have with strangers on the street, in the grocery store, while I’m walking the dogs—how I feel deep down that I’d like to know these people. Please make it a point to allow me to open myself up enough to all of this revelrie that happens consistently and gloriously and that I find my way in my little world with elegant grace until my last dying day, okay amen you may be seated.
Yours In the Definition of Hope,
Sometimes on Saturday, after a sleepless night spent listening to our little brother snore like a tractor while our parents periodically tell the other one that they are, in fact, snoring which is met with bleary eyed dumbo debates that include exchanges like “I was? No I wasn’t. Yes you were. No, you were.” we like to have a conference with our mother about the fact that we are the only member of the family that doesn’t snore and we are becoming increasingly worried about this problem.
Don’t Mind Me,
William Wide Awake
Calm, vibrant cool waters that telegraph and settle the essence of your being. The kind of liquid landscape that draws you in and allows you to let in goodness, regardless of what is happening around you. Regardless of infinite conflict and anger. Regardless of all the unsettled rhetoric and vitriol. May you allow the gorgeousness of space and beauty and connect with your inkling to let go of what isn’t yours to fuel or carry, leaving yourself space to open your heart to anyone and anything that calls on your sweet focus.