I hear my oldest son playing piano, a new song he’s learned that he renders with little effort. His fingers grace the piano keys as if he’s played before, but he hasn’t. I’m amazed at his talent and intuitiveness.
My other son sleeps, having turned in at eight-thirty. Turning in early makes sense, since he traversed the mountain trails on his mountain bike all day. I’m in awe at his natural ability to care for himself.
My husband reads the news, his mind like a sponge. I’m sometimes shocked to hear the numerous facts he can recall with such speed.
Our dog Stella rests on her bed. I find it fascinating that everything is of interest to her, and I wonder how a single day in her life would transform me, my gratitude, and my spirit.
Our three cats slumber, separate from one another, but all content. Whenever I need a spiritual lift, I observe my kitties and know that something phenomenal and brilliant made them.
And me… I sip tea and lounge on the couch, knitting. Soft wool is pliable between my fingers and is precious to knit. To see stitch after stitch come together and create a garment that will warm a loved one is something to behold.
The house is somewhat messy, and my husband’s gun cleaning project peppers the dining table. A few dishes populate the kitchen sink. Knitting books, various yarns, and colorful needles surround me, and the washer offers a background rhythm to my son’s piano as it cleans and spins.
What an opportunity for me to witness our family. My love for them abounds, forever nourished by their presence.
A cherished gift.
An irreplaceable sweetness.
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