Reader, I know it’s Hermit Monday but there’s something I have to tell you. It’s this: just gratitude
Last week, in addition to winter contagion those of us who live in the Wee Small House experienced several other — ahem — inconvenient occurrences.
I could make a list but, seriously, you.would.not.believe.me.
The Spanish language has a way of expressing the concept of a thing than which no (insert adjective here)-er thing can be imagined.
For example, Spanish speakers would call a man than which no shorter man can be imagined el corto.
I like to think of last week as semana la loca — the week than which no crazier week can be imagined.
[I hope I am remembering all this Spanish correctly — it has been one million years since my last cláse del Español].
But through it all, one thing kept me going: just gratitude.
Gratitude that all that laundry I did was done on automatic washing and drying machines that are right outside my kitchen door. Gratitude that I will be able to pay the water and gas bill. Gratitude for remedies that comforted the afflicted — for example, thank you, Universe, for Advil and for Benadryl. And for triptans — thank you, thank you for triptans. Gratitude that no one was still in diapers for all the fun we had last week (not that I don’t lurve little people in diapers, but… y’know).
Gratitude for friends and family who cheered me on and held me up. I get by…
Gratitude for art and beauty — the small bits of each that I’ve stashed around the Wee, Small House and the big bits I could see out my windows: clouds, sun, a night-black crow.
Gratitude for words, and books, and blank pieces of paper — even though I didn’t encounter any of these things until Saturday, I knew they would wait for me.
And guess what. I now have a writing studio. Do you want to see it?
Do you see it there perched on the edge of the glass vase? I call it the Wee, Small Hermitage.
Hermitage meaning “the dwelling of a hermit, especially when small and remote.” From the Greek erêmos “uninhabited.”
Except by me, that is.
Yes now it’s Hermit Monday. I’m going to unlink myself from the Interwebs and enter the Wee, Small Hermitage (figuratively, of course). I’m going to give thanks for the empty, quiet, healthy (fingers crossed) house; the words; the blank white page; the uninhabited space that’s waiting for me to fill it. Amen.