I realized yesterday that in posting these tiny gratitudes, I can see that they are never about the show I watched on Netflix, or the book I’ve been reading. But I spend most of every day longing to just watch a show or escape in a book. It’s strange that what I think I like best isn’t actually what I like best. I’m trying now to pay better attention to the life I think I want to escape.
We are on the lane outside our house; a car-free zone where kids can play together. The sky is mostly grey again, with the sun bursting through occasionally. It isn’t cold though, the air is soft and spring-time warm.
Two moms and three girls are seated on a blanket, totally engrossed in sewing little pillows. Son wanted to sew too, at first, but he just couldn’t stay still long enough. Now he and another boy are on a nearby lawn. Each boy holds a pair of sewing scissors and is cutting the grass with glee. Oh the joy of being a kid in the springtime, cutting the lawn with scissors.