Most days I write down up to five things I am grateful for, big or small, subtle or apparent. I archive and post the list monthly. This is September 2014.
a Labour day at home — going out for another group trail run — assessing where I am, not where I would wish/hope to be — my son’s help with snipping and raking up garden brush — clean sheets — going to bed early.
green lights in traffic — my daughter’s care and consideration when making a burial plot for our departed hamster — that kids soccer starts this week — remembering to do what I’d forgotten to do (in a timely way).
first soccer practice for my son — sunshine — white wine.
my son for watering the garden — fresh tomatoes from the garden — yummy greens and kale salad — decadent coffee.
sleep — having a sense of what “normal” feels like to me.
my mom coming to visit — that she is so self sufficient — that traffic was light on my drive out to the airport — taking the day off from running.
managing to make it through another long(er) run — feeling good after my run — ice bath for my foot — chocolate/pumpkin seed bark.
burgers — that the restaurant texted us when our table was ready — a burger place that has fresh salad and delicious burgers — finally buying a new broom.
my mom taking care of the kids this week.
my mom cleaning up after me (and the rest of my family) — getting to the gym — that we managed to make it to the beach — that my son and mom went for a swim — that we did manage to get home and get to soccer practice.
finishing a good book (The signature of all things)
starting a new book — having a meal together — seeing how little things are important.
helping out with the aid station at the race — enjoying the sunshine — dressing up — going out for a quick bite with my Sweet — easy parking for the music festival.
taking care of my foot instead of running — learning that I am not the only injured runner in the world — that pain means something — drinking extra coffee — taking a nap.
that summer is still hanging around — reading other bloggers (you guys are good!) — the feeling of warm air in the evening — fresh kale salad.
more fiction — being able to renew my Library book — that Netflix will exist even if I am not watching it — texting.
registering for new classes that stretch my comfort level — my physiotherapist — making time to make time.
being able to send the kids home early from day camp — leftovers for lunch — kind neighbours — wine.
a walk before dinner — the fine weather — feeling content.
the short cycle on the washing machine — watching kids play soccer — the smell of fall — the goldening of leaves.
going to the intermediate class of yoga — stretching myself (mentally and physically) — an afternoon rest — doing groceries when there was no one in the store.
that school has finally started — the kids excitement — new adventures — new schools and teachers.
the kids making their own lunches — starting new schedules — soccer practice — tomatoes from the garden.
being back in the pool after over a year — realizing that although my fitness is different, I can still manage to swim laps — being away from running and realizing how much it means to me.
hearing that other injured runners are running — magnesium — bananas — the extra parking spot no one else saw — my daughter’s care, patience, and kindness.
the washing machine — cold water laundry soap — realizing that in people years our cat is 88 years old — my son going to bed without a fuss, as though it was the most normal, everyday thing to do.
watching soccer in the early morning in a t-shirt — the sunshine for sticking around — coffee and cookies after soccer — making morning rituals.
trying out inverted poses at yoga — the kids being able to stay home alone (the house was still standing) — going to the pool and doing my water run — time alone at home.
sunshine — feeling refreshed for a new week — not having to do anything — spending time with my son in a coffee shop doing homework.
being able to take a detour through traffic — only being a few minutes late for soccer practice — getting to my class on time — doing less.