boom and I opened the back door to cushiony snowflakes, so lacy and light that their heavy fall seemed to defy their intended terminal velocity. Though boom was bundled, the snow caught her eyelashes and she did not like how they melted there, so our trek was just long enough for a quick number one.
each snowflake seems a prayer. Christmas is alive and glowing bright in my heart.
some days seem to be slated for doom from their very dawning. the majority of these are work days — at least that is how i thought and lived. with the snow, today was my last day at work. this work day has ended well. slate or no, the day is what you make it.
i did not make this day as good as it possibly could be. i was not my best nor did i make my best better. i always seem to leave it off until tomorrow. it is not how i wish to live my life.
wishing is for losers. so for the new year, i resolve to make today a great day, for each today that i am given.
time ticks by. 23 weeks have passed since the bean entered our lives; 17 until he sees this great wide world. 2014 holds so much for us: we anticipate a new and unknown life. but it is not the maternity shoot or baby pictures or scholarship notifications or final exams or first halloween/thanksgiving/Christmas that will define it; it is the compilation of unexpected joys, of unsoothed sorrows, of the thousands of unknown smiles and the hundreds of unwanted cries.
habit makes me type now — these writings often serve as my single productive endeavor in a 24 hour period. yesterday i kept myself away with effort, a tribute to release from obligation. habit also sinks me into mediocrity. i’ve cultivated an attitude of gloom.
i resolve to chip away the petty material desires, the listlessness, the jealousy, the worries that cripple my heart. i will no longer let the sweet seduction of laze and self-pity entertain my mind. my soul i give only to whom it belongs.
i will live in the example of Howard Roark, Architect.