Something last night, as I was going to sleep, triggered a memory of trying to find a comfortable way to fall asleep when there were still staples in my head. That reminded me of the unbelievably wonderful feeling of that first shower after the first staples came out, which triggered a rumination about about sensory memories. For whatever reason, that brought back senses of grandmother’s house in Washington, PA, now long gone out of the family. When I was small, and we visited her, there was a feeling--and a special smell--associated with sitting in the breakfast nook off of my grandmother’s kitchen and having a meal. Those were only breakfast or lunch, of course, because we always ate dinner at the dining room table. I don’t know how many times I visited as a child--it couldn’t have been many--but the sensations of her house are crystal clear to me. There was a section of her attic, under the eaves, that was set up as a small playhouse, and it was a very special place indeed, as it could only be accessed through a stairwell inside a closet. It was a little musty, but it had a window and there was a nice quality to the light and a feeling of great safety and security amidst adventure. What more could children ask for?
I have no clue what triggered any of these memories, and no time, really, to think about it right now, so I spent my few moments reliving experiences at two completely different stages of life, and then switched back to thinking about the things that need to be done. That brought sharply into focus how very lucky I am to be worrying about the things that are fretting me right now. They’re all good problems to have, and even better, the kind of busy I am drowning in right now isn’t the kind of stressful that disturbs sleep, which is another, different kind of sensation. It’s just a ton of hard work, with more to go before it slows down.
All around, then, today I’m counting my blessings. And getting back to work. The tree outside our bedroom window is fully leafed out, and the green is a spring green. With the sun filtering through the leaves, it’s a view full of life and possibilities. May your day be that way, too.
P.S. In re-reading this, it came to me that the thoughts of my grandmother’s house were likely triggered by thinking about one of the things lurking around my to-do list, which is writing to one of my cousins who thoughtfully sent me a set of pictures of her current life--and which I haven’t had (or made) time to write properly to thank her for. Before turning to the impossibly long list of stuff to do today, I’ll write a short note to let her know how much I’m enjoying her pictures. Of course, that reminds me of other notes that need writing, but I’m going to write the one and resolutely not think about the others right now, or none of them will get done. Maybe a short note per morning for a few days? That might work.