Small things: Staring at my socks, tying my shoes in the dark kitchen before each early morning run. Every day.
Looking up at the dark sky, watching the progression of the phases of the moon as the weeks roll along, all too quickly. Seeing a bright meteor plunge down right in front of me. Perhaps few others sighted it on that very same morning.
Making a personal connection with a new person, to be an acquaintance / colleague, or perhaps a loving partner. When love finally hits, and it is like there is no one else in the world, red bag, just the two of you together.
Entering the security bubble of an airport, worried about time and flight status and trip logistics, away and returning – until it ends, and you walk back outside through exit security. In a sense, you miss all of that when it ends.
Traveling to a new part of the world, big cities, distant lands, history up close, finding your way around on a next morning run. Free on your own, or with another person close. Imprinting sights and memories for life.
The innocence and wonder of small children. Holidays that come and go – and you realize that these are fleeting like the seasons that pass by so quickly. Celebrations of birth and birthdays and graduations and marriages, and lives well lived.
Following your sports teams, when they win it makes your day. When they lose it is like a cut or a personal loss, and then you get over it, because it is out of your control, and the next game, the next season is soon enough upon you. Though some wins and losses are much better (or worse) than others. Revisiting your own sporting accomplishments, as modest as they are. Making a basket, hitting a great shot.
Running every day, often early. Knowing that some days will be better than others and embracing each as its own small story. Counting the miles and watching the time, processing your own thoughts in solitude. A suddenly injured back, a suddenly injured foot. I cannot take it back. Waiting out recovery. Racing! Anxious and excited at every start line. Boston. Finishing with a personal race best. Finishing any race. Dallas / Houston / Boston / Chicago / Quebec City / Bayou City / Brenham / Run the Woodlands / Spindle Tree parkrun each its own story.
Finding a book or a new shirt or shoes that you think about buying and then put aside in the store; then you think about that missed purchase for three days straight. And sometimes you go back. And sometimes you do not. New shoes.
Cutting the grass, raking leaves, shoveling snow, cleaning tile, washing clothes, getting a hair trim. Dentists and doctors, bearing never good news. Waiting in traffic and wondering if this is all your life passing buy, one red light at a time. Things break, all the time, repairing, replacing, and moving on. Losing a hat, a wallet, a set of keys, a pet, a love, a loved one. Some losses linger, sometimes your whole life.
Pizza, a good steak cooked medium rare, Italian bread with shaved ham and fresh tomatoes, cherries in season, peach pie. Breakfast.
Starting a job, feeling inexperienced. Feeling valued and sought out. Feeling bypassed and wronged in the workplace, ending a job. Moving, breaking ties, accepting a new life.
Worrying about something you said, or did and you cannot easily take it back. Sometimes the regret stays with you. Often looking back through the lens of time and distance, it did not really matter. Lunch with good friends.
Falling asleep in a chair on the back porch. Or falling asleep anywhere. Bad weather days, watching the storms roll in, taking cover and waiting for it to pass. An all-day cold light rain in the dead of winter
The natural world. Backyard small animals, birds, fish turtles all around us in the local woods, ponds, and bayous. Far from home, the mountains, the ocean, the splendor of a forest, being there to experience it in real time, in real life.
Books! Reading a good book and traveling to another life, for at least a while. Writing in the evenings, while listening to keyboard and piano music.
The street ahead of me, as I turn the corner and finish off my run, a quarter mile to the house. Every damn day.
Small things add up to a grand life.
