Yesterday was one of those amazing days. The kind where you set yourself an impossible list of things to do and you actually get them all done. I slept in (very important). I drank two cups of coffee from my new mug (thanks, sister). I finished knitting and blocking a scarf (see above). I put together packages to mail to family. I worked on my mom's Christmas present (a sweater). I cleaned up my flower beds and planted over 50 tulip and daffodil bulbs. I listened to
this album on infinite repeat. I finished knitting a shawl for one of my best friends. I cleaned and swept my garage. I fixed my garage door ALL BY MYSELF (bonus task). I pan-fried some pickerel from Hecla Island and cooked up some edamame for supper. I washed all of the dishes that had piled up this week. I installed Snow Leopard on my grumbling iMac. I read a really good book.
I look at that list now and wonder how on earth it all got done.
The thing that made the day extraordinary wasn't that it was perfect. I'm pretty sure that I planted half of the flower bulbs at the right side of my house upside down (maybe China will see some nice tulips come this Spring). I ripped out hours worth of knitting to fix a mistake. My house is a perpetual mess (a good housekeeper I am not).
No, what made the day extraordinary was that, for all that I crossed off of my list, it never felt rushed or laboured. Parts of the day felt rich and meaningful. Parts of it felt like the plain and dirty hard work that it was. But more than anything, the day felt like a 26-year old woman, who will never not feel like she's a kid, just living the life in front of her, the best that she knows how.
Learning to live Loved.
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