Waking up early to listen to music and journal.
Writing again, even in these short bursts.
My cheap cinnamon candle, burning beside me to remind me that I am inhabiting my own space.
Fruit smoothies for breakfast.
Eating more mindfully this winter and listening to what I really hunger for.
Finding space to move my body, even if it’s only dancing zumba steps with my daughter to keep her laughing before bed.
Or stretching when I wake up.
Or walking around the block during the day.
Welcoming winter break and its slower pace with wide arms. (I need the quiet and the rest, but I secretly dread the aimlessness.)
Changing our little family’s holiday plans, to better honor our extended family in our time of deep need and fear.
Road tripping with an antsy toddler and making the experience as pleasant as possible for all of us.
Holding my husband when he is angry, frustrated, and burnt out.
Helping him find a space for free time and rest, despite the mountain of chores.
Knowing that he will find his own path, even (and especially) when he cannot see it.
Layered clothes and tights and boots.
Bundling up against the coming blizzard.
Finally playing in the snow with Nora, whenever the snow finally comes.
Standing in all that is good and decent about me: my hard work, my compassion, my creativity, my focus, and my wholeness.
Even when I can’t see it.
Especially when I can’t see it.