This morning between my math exam and work I had an excellent phone conversation with my mother.
Tonight I saw a man exercising his dog by driving loops in a parking lot with his smart car, his dog running happily behind.
She asked if I was okay and I said, “Yeah, I’m fine.” So she asked again.
“First day.” That’s what he said the slogan for the year would be. “First day.” Like every day started out as something new. As if we always have a chance to decide we’re going to do it different. “First day.” Because all that really matters is what we’re grappling with right now. Now. Be here. Present. Plan, yes. Make goals, yes. Reach, yes, always. But stay grounded. Remind yourself that today is always the beginning of something. “First day.” Each day individually. Pay attention. Breathe.
I ran this morning. In the rain. Not the snow, not the freezing, but in the rain. The true Seattle winter returns and we all remember that we are web-footed and moss-covered. We know what to do with this. This we can do.
In the time between my math class and work I sat down and drank a cup of coffee. A few minutes of solitude. Of rest. Of nothing. How easy it is to forget to let those moments happen to you. Always plugging in, turning on, looking up. Forgetting that sometimes we should just sit. Just be. Remember our hearts beating. Still. Still.
I told Nadine that if math stays interesting I’d like to get my Bachelor’s in it. She told me that in the five years she’s known me math is the only thing that’s managed to keep my interest.
Today I didn’t work. I held my nephew instead. All baby sweet and squirming.
My roommate’s mother has been visiting us from Iran for the last month. Today she went home, but she left our fridge full.