Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Quiet moments

The past few days have been busy, filled, chockablock with work to be done. The normal housework at home, and the exciting rehab work at the new house. The school work. The work work. I've been very busy, and it makes for boring reading, I imagine, this ordinary life I live.

But in the midst of the boring blog reports, there are small moments of pleasure ~ that cat allowing itself to be picked up and petted. He looked around alertly, not at me. He nestled comfortably in my arm, studying the world. As if he was already my cat, as if being held by me was already an ordinary moment for him.

Saturday night, Tim and I sprawled on a blanket under the stars eating piping hot french fries and talking to each other. There were fireworks, publicly. Privately.

I had the pleasure of a long phone conversation with a friend last night.

I have the pleasure of a clean house. (Yes. Still.)

It is the second blisteringly hot day. I am tired, up at 3:30 to go put away freight at the store, up at my mother's to clean for her, back home to tidy my own little house for our company tomorrow. Now I'm sprawled lazily, limp and sweaty, and tired. I listen to the sounds of the woods, knowing that I'll have to get used to different sounds. I'm reading a book, a memoir of a woman's childhood, and what she grew up to be. It's a mildly interesting book, a pleasant read. I have no energy to wrestle with complicated plot lines right this minute. The final lines of it are "I hardly touch ground the last blocks to Grand Central, but come triumphantly to rest alone on Forty-second Street, on the edge of evening. I am beginning. My life is beginning which cannot be true."

I remember the exhileration of being 23. I remember moments when my feet hardly touched the ground. What struck me poignantly is that now I am 54. I realize that although I am nowhere near Grand Central Station, or Forty-second St, I feel as if her words could be my own. Even still.

It's an ordinary time for me, with extraodinary small moments of pleasure.


Scotty said...

Gotta love those quiet moments, eh? That's why I go away to the country whenever I can, to get away from bills, work, kids, etc.

Fireworks are always fun too, lol.

Jayne said...

Can you bottle and send some over my way? lol

Anonymous said...

Oh, Jayne. I've been reading, and you have had quite a time of it, haven't you? I think that I should scoop you up and bring you home for a fortnight of peace and quiet.

PS. Can you paint?



Kelly said...

Actually, it's these "routine" lives that most of us live and I always enjoy reading about the little pleasures (like the cat) you share from yours. It makes me feel good just to be a part of your life here.

*sigh* ...and I've read enough about your clean house that I'm off to do some cleaning on my own. Still won't be as clean as yours, I'm sure, but at least it will be better than it is at the moment!

Bill of Wasilla said...

Please. Put up a picture of that cat. I need to see that cat.

If you visit my blog today, you will see that I have put it on hold until September 15. I am going to try to put all of my internet activities on hold or near hold until September 15, because I must fully devote myself to certain tasks... but I will always come back to see that cat!

A Novel Woman said...

You had me at piping hot french fries...

If you want an amazing, engrossing, unputdownable book, try UNBROKEN by Laura Hillenbrand (she wrote SEABISCUIT) which recounts the story of Louis Zamperini. It is simply amazing, and inspirational. I know you'd love it.