Sometimes I look around at my life and think…it couldn’t be more perfect.
I look at the worn couches in our living room and picture teddy bear-like puppies snuggling on the cushions and children snuggling their toes in furry creatures as they read at night.
I clean out my bookshelves and marvel at the knowledge each book contains and how lucky I am to have the chance to absorb any bit of it at any time.
I peel potatoes for a pot of chicken soup or organize groceries in the pantry and appreciate the art of making a home for my family.
I fold little socks and drive to activities with coffee in my hand and noise from the back seats and think how special it is to hear their voices in sing in the background.
I put a welcome mat at the front door. I pay bills. I buy glitter shoes for a family night at the Nutcracker. I attempt to build a dollhouse to surprise my 8-year-old on Christmas. I giggle at terrible knock-knock jokes and pause to look at magnets on the fridge showing pictures my children colored.
Maybe some might see these tasks, these domestic tasks as mundane, but I do not. I see each one as part of the canvas that is the embodiment of my life and each of these tasks is just another color, another brush stroke to fill in the picture I am meant to create. I only get this one life. This one, brief life. Rather than focus on what could be different, I am choosing to focus on how all of it brings me a sense of joy. A sense of gratitude.
This life is small. This life is valuable. This life is perfect…for me.