Little Things, Right


Much depends on a single magnolia petal, sprinkler-starred, lying in thick grass.

I’m struggling lately, my beloveds–as you can probably tell. Every time I think there’s a little hope, some-damn-thing else happens.1 I suspect my resilience is reaching a limit, and that is an Unhelpful Thought.

I’m trying to find little things to focus on–cuddling a happy dog, a tiny victory for one of my (grown, when did that happen, my gods) children, a sip of good coffee, a small break in the gasping, terrible heat of summer. If I pay attention to those, maybe I can get through all the rest of it.

At least there’s some rain today. Not much–a bare drizzle, tops–but it smells lovely and cleans the air, and a little relief from the heat is better than none. And walking the dogs mean I have to stop often and look at the things which interest them.

Like a single magnolia petal from a tree fooled into blooming again by the release of the heat dome, and tiny jewels of sprinkler-water glittering in the sun. Sometimes, looking at the small things, I know everything’s going to be okay.

I just hope I’m right.

  1. We could have been done with this pandemic by now if not for the Republican cultists and Mammon demanding our elders and children die to feed corporate maws, dammit.