April 11, 2011
My new flashlight matches my cat.It's silver.
(Cat's grey, soooo... close enough.)
My hand-me-down chairs match my new filing cabinet. Black. And my lamp. And my spatulas. And my laundry basket.
(Rocking the stealth mode motif, yo.)
I have a bomb ass microwave which fits snuggly between my cream-colored fridge next to my cream-colored stove. My counter tops aren't new but the bachelor before me didn't abuse them much. Not like he did the floor in the bedroom -- the only area where I don't have brand new carpeting.
The chica that garnered the microwave for me also gave me some plants "which you can't kill" and two sweet Patron bottles to put them in. My Dell printer box is doubling as an ottoman and, thanks to the sweet soul who donated some clothing my way, I have one pair of shorts. Just in time for an unseasonably warm yesterday.
Life is good.
My fridge is adorned with motorcycle magnets. Pictures of Paris in my kitchen await a proper placement. I have new engery-efficient bulbs for my new light fixtures and an AlpineStars back pack.
I have a shade over my skylight in my bedroom -- a little jerry rigged but functional.
I wouldn't have any of these things if it weren't for the generosity of others.
A computer. Paper. Notebooks. Pens. Glasses. A place to crash. A smile. A hug.
I have so much and there's not a day that goes by that I don't see it all.
The bed, the blinds, the kitchen towels. A ratchet screw driver (not pink like the one I had but bomb all the same). A bottle of dish soap. Books. DVDs. A pillow for my head.
I may have lost everything; including recently two aunts and the power to make everyone at ease, but I haven't lost an ounce of gratitude.
I'm grateful for each day and each moment within it which exists. Each spoon I have to clean, because it's mine. Every square inch of every counter I have to clean because I have a home to upkeep. Each piece of paper I write upon with each pen I've been given because I haven't lost sight of a second I've been given.
And you might think I'm crazy to touch each wall as I pass through my home but I can't help but to be aware of every inch that has been given to me.
Each step I have to climb. Every book I have to read. Each out of place splash of paint that the painters let fall onto my living room windows. One chair, one knife, one pillow, one blanket... one brand new life.
All made possible by you.
Certainly there are moments when I am sad. Minutes go by and I wonder why I'm angry as hell. Days drift and I can't quite still wrap my head about the madness.
But mostly I'm just happy. I'm intrigued. Emotional. Gratified. Elated.
This is mine. This life. And I'm doing the best I can and, despite everything I might do wrong, in any given day, I can't believe sometimes how much exactly I've done right.
Because just to get this far is pretty amazing.
Never have I had to rely on so many people nor ever have I even asked.
But it was given to me just the same.
So... thank you.
For while I know that the most precious thing I'm responsible for is me, it is most ingratiating to know that I am even more brilliant because of you.
(Sappy Sally here but I needed to get that out :)