january something

Having a tough time keeping track of what day it is. One seems to roll right into the next, beginning just as the one before it, and ending as it usually does. When things are most chaotic, I seem to wish for a familiar routine, and when things are routine, something to break the tedium. Bailey gets his heartworm pills on the seventh. That's what my calendar says. That's tomorrow, one small change in our daily routine.

There is something to be said for small changes - those that don't rock your world. Ordering a cherry lemonade instead of the usual coke can put a whole new twist on your day.

This morning I drank my coffee on the step of my front porch in the sun instead of on the patio. Not a big deal, but I realized the world looks different from there. Heck, even Bailey noticed as he tried to sneak by me down the stairs and out into the world. I didn't need slippers, as the morning sun had been warming the wood for hours. Instead of looking through black fenceposts and jasmine, I saw the neighbor's front door, the cement sidewalk and the dormant heather surviving the winter tenuously. I wondered if it was as confused by the warmth of this January as I have been. Aside from the sound of the wind through the branches of the oak tree a few feet away, the world was quiet. A few birds, no air conditioners humming. And in that moment, I was able to stop and breathe - give thanks for the little nudge that urged me to open the front door instead of the porch door.

I think a break in the routine - one little change - gives us space to breathe and notice. While the jasmine on my patio is beautiful, I stopped looking at it one day. But my guess is that tomorrow I will see it, and be thankful for it, even if I do need to wear my slippers.