The Well Of Joy And Fate

Have wondered of late why exactly it was that my little digital Weather Station had been over estimating (under estimating?) the temperature outside. Certainly I knew it was in the shade, but it was WAY off – therefore, instigating me to dress like I’m storming the Sahara at night.

Turns out the outdoor base unit fell into the basement window well. Well, of course it’s atleast 10 f’en degrees cooler down in that hole. Geesh.

Seems to be some lesson in that. Perhaps to utilize ones own instinct, rather than on the advice of others, well-meaning or otherwise – as often their temperature gauge is skewed.

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I was struck by how good today felt, and stunned when I realized that I had not felt this way in probably almost 3 years. THREE YEARS of worry, and biting my tongue, and holding, and loving, and crying, and grieving, all through the end, death, and its after math.

The looking for work, the finding work – then looking for digs, and finding digs. Then struggle, struggle, struggle, make it work. Feel like a schmuck, like some sort of sub-adult species. But NOT today.

Today…I felt a big AAHHHH !!! Today was a GOOD day. I have a clean home, it smells beautiful, I love my neighbourhood, I don’t hate my job – in short, I like my life. Today had everything, and I had this euphoric sense of bliss the whole day long.

Today I was Living With Happiness. It rested lightly on my shoulder, like that sunshine.

On our walk today, I discovered a place I had completely forgotten about. This small park that runs just to the southwest of the Old Vic, and goes under the bridge and meets up with the path I use. Today, as the concrete path hugged the river bank, the way opened up and I suddenly thought “I know where I am”. I’d decided to continue on the path, across the road and into what I thought was the unknown. Yet, not so. I have such a vague recollection, but this place is special. I used to walk through here when my ex-husband was in after his suicide attempt. It is a very soothing place.

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Even here, in this unexpected memory come to life, I still couldn’t shake my sense of bliss. My dishwater hands were even more raw from Irish pulling, but I didn’t care. Not today. Nothing was going to get in my way. At one point today, it almost felt SINFUL. Tis rare, of late.

Intermingling with the tears, the breeze flows through across my dishwater hands, as I finish up in late afternoon light. My bamboo kitchen floor underneath, my shiny clean kitchen before me. Tis a good day.

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