It’s the details that hold the living


Ever feel that life is just moving too fast? You make one decision and then another and you figure you’re done for a while, it’ll slow down and you can enjoy what you gained with all those decisions.

Then the road forks again, and you’re hovering there, wishing there were road signs to tell you how to get to wherever you want to go, trying to read hints in the gravel, in the mist where the paths disappear into the future.

But in the hovering, the guessing, the fears and the questions and the hopes, it’s the small things of everyday that hold the living.

  • A breeze carrying the first warnings of a summer storm in my face as I run down the path out of the woods, into a wide-open grassy world of dusk.
  • A perfect rabbit in miniature, so tiny it could fit in my cupped hands, grazing inches from the safety of the bushes, while frogs call from the edge of the pond just feet away.
  • The taste of fresh in the cucumber someone grew at home, brought to work, that I tossed in salt and pepper and red wine vinegar.
  • A berry ripe on the vine, staining fingers purple when it’s plucked; berries with sugar and cold milk.
  • Two little feet on my leg, and one little ferret face looking up, trying to see what’s more important than playing with her.
  • Honey Bunches of Oats on my way to bed, husband laughing because why do I always work out, then eat just as soon as the sweat has dried and the heart stopped pounding?
  • Morning Glories I never planted, pale pink fading into white, opening frail blossoms against the red brick of the house.
  • Granola he made, sweet like a cookie crumbled over my yogurt, because the man has a sweet tooth and it can’t taste healthy (even if it is).

And so in the pause while we strain our eyes trying to see where both paths lead, what dangers lurk down each and what rewards wait at the end, we’re still living life in the details.

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