Beauty

I've noticed a blogging theme lately. It's in all the blogs I've read throughout the years, including my own. Periods of dark, gloom doom, alone, grasping, waving and drowning. Then -- light! Counting blessings, letting everyone in the whole wide world know how blessed you are so that you can finally feel it yourself. Listening to the rain and realizing that you have every single thing you need; watching children play while reflecting on the circle of life.

Thus, culminating a blog entry in the perfect way a television show concludes with a song. Something that strums softly, with smiles and laughing kids in the background. Something that shows that through adversity, there is hope.

I do this myself. I veer from lamenting to luminating; scattered to centered.

And in between, there is the every day. The heating up of hot dogs for lunch, the pain in your back, the damn bills that seem to come at the absolute worst times. Laundry. Dishes.

My best friend from childhood until now spent the weekend with me. We didn't take a single picture, but we drank alot of wine and made brownies and she did my laundry and cooking. She was my very last "helper" in this long journey, which has seen all four parents and a grand total of six friends in and out of here altogether.

I told her goodbye, and an hour later I began to walk. No more crutches. I am walking awkwardly, but I'm up.

It hurts like a bitch. Muscles I haven't used in so long are stretching and yelling at me, and I'm beginning the countdown to going into the office. I'm taking off my walking boot and staring at my foot like it's something new that's recently grown.

"Hello,' I say. 'Are you strong enough to get me the hell through this day? This night? This year?"

I'm growing stronger, the nights are growing longer, and there is grace, yes. There is adversity. And I sit, in red plaid pajamas, writing it down to add to the words collectively thrown to the universe that all jumble together. Saying the same things, over again, until we find each other -- each saying the words that we already know, in harmony.

It's like a song I know. I've heard it before.

I already know the words.