i have a glass of wine in my hands. sitting on the couch. watching Beasts of the Southern WIld. my honey’s shoulder rests against mine. his warmth reminds me he is here with me. not in Dallas on work, or at a Pacers’ game late.
he is here, with me.
the longer i live, and the farther i get from the glorious progression of milestones classic of my youth, the more i realize one important thing:
it truly is the little things that count.
one day last week, when i felt more fat than usual, more incompetent, more restless….just more i-want-to-throw-my-hands-to-the-heavens-and-rage, i got an email.
it was an email from my college mentor, professor, and one of my overall favorite people from that time of my life. he always reacted with surprise when i plopped my prepared schedule onto his desk, where my peers would walk in with a half-attemped effort, scribbled on scraps of paper. i spent many hours with him, in upper level literature classes–American poetry, and Thoreau and so much more. he even invited us to his home for a Christmas where we played games and exchanged white elephant gifts. he was a mentor in the truest sense.
so, in a list of 1,200 unopened emails because i’ve gotten really bad about reading them all and deleting the ones that don’t matter, his stood out. in so many ways.
the email was simple: he and the English department were inviting me back to speak to current students about my journey and, ultimately, how my college experience benefitted me. i cried.
i remembered those meetings, the ones where we met with alumni who were out in the world, making there way. they told us of the world that lay just beyond us, the one that would soon threaten to swallow us up. i admired them, and slightly feared them, mostly for their confidence and self-awareness. and i remember distinctly thinking, i wonder if they will ever ask me? will my life ever be something they’ll want to share with students, to help them understand what they’re capable of?
so, on that day when everything felt like too much and i felt like i just didn’t have what it took to sustain the storm…i got asked to help point a light into the dark void of what’s ahead.
it always comes down to this…the little things. it’s always the little things that pick us back up. keep our chins up. help us to see that life is wondrous and full and so worth the living. the little things that make the biggest difference.