Today a sister and friend wrote with some distressing news: 2–5 years. I truly hope that the doctors will be able to circumvent that prognosis, but what if not? Two to five years? No. I can't believe that. I can't believe ever being without her. We already lost her husband, for god's sake.
Another friend asked this morning on our daily WhatsApp chat, three of us, if we do daily gratitudes. She was just at a memorial service, and the fellow being memorialized had gotten in the habit of exchanging gratitudes with a friend of his. The friend shared some of those. She said it was moving, hearing his moments of gratefulness, of noticing. Concrete. "The details!" she said. "The voice!" He had been navigating sobriety. An extra layer.
So I'm here today with another three. Maybe I'll make it a daily project. Or maybe I'll never get sucked into the "daily" nonsense again. Time will tell.
1. The beautiful bubbling aliveness of the sourdough starter I launched a couple of weeks ago. Soon, I will have enough head space to bake a loaf of bread with it. But even if I never did that, feeding it each day, then seeing the bubbles rise some hours later—it's oddly satisfying.
2. Email. I was spelling out the entire story here, which had to do with a finished editing job and locking files, and different operating systems on different computers, but no, the details aren't important here. Email, however, is: it allowed me to finish my end of the job, and then send the files to the author for her review. (Though email is also how I heard the 2–5 year news...)
3. Dinner out: branzini on a carroty quinoa bed, with asparagus, coconut, Pernod-infused raisins (I kid you not). It's nothing I'd ever even dream of cooking at home. And it was super delicious. Thank you, fish, for the sacrifice of your life.
No comments:
Post a Comment