Kind.

Hopeful. Whether I like it or not, mood and mind and body change. Today, thank God, feeling hope. Because yesterday was dour, to the point of dwelling on mortality. But today, the temperature is mild, the sun isn’t shining but at least it’s bright outside, and I’m in less pain than yesterday. Taking that as a blessing. Once again, things are going my way.

It’s a nice feeling, and I can vaguely smell the flowers that I bought at the grocery store yesterday and put out on the table. The world smells – and feels – good right now.

That is not mine. I do not own it. But I will take it, enjoy it, so long as it’s on loan.

Life has these funny pockets. Nothing is linear, unless, perhaps, it is death, and even that is just from our perspective. Progress is not linear.

So I sit with my face soaking up some joy, my guts still getting up to mischief, but I’ll let them. Just sensing. Allowing. Seeing what comes. Cool breezes. Good smells. During meditation, the kitty climbed on my chest and lay facing me down, purring.

And a tip of an iceberg in my gut. A sprinkle of anxiety on my cookie of satisfaction. A little chuckle in my throat. Chasing a feeling. Breathing. And pressing my right incisors together gently.

This is a gentle – button – pushing morning, a gorgeous clouds morning, a pale green grass morning, and a flag up the flagpole kind of morning. My guts lie in wait, a crocodile waiting to snap. but even to them I say –

“okay.”

“I see you. I allow you. You may kill me one day, but it’s okay. It is (as they say) the way it is.”

I guess I wanted to write about (process) dinner last night with Rebecca. We had had a hard day. My bloody guts made me depressed, and I thought the steroid was making me volatile (so much blood dripping, constantly dripping) and Rebecca had a crick in her neck. Her uncle Tim had just died the day before. A loss.

But the upshot is we had dinner together. Thought we might go out, but instead I bought salmon, potatoes, and Brussels sprouts. Rebecca cooked and I played music, and drank tea, and set the table. And when we sat down and ate the delicious food I felt so…what?

Cozy?

Comfortable?

Grateful.

These were the little moments, the smells, the cool breezes, the flowers on the table. We were learning to enjoy them.

And they are worth infinity.

I loved it. I love her. And life? A strange mistress -sometimes wonderfully, surprisingly

kind.

Kelly Louise Judd – Forget – Me – Not – 2024