On Friday, after work, I bought the latest Kinfolk. But I've been working so I haven't even looked past the cover yet. My only break yesterday was well-spent running to the flower market. A posey of lily-of-the-valley by my bed always makes me happy. But today, I'm going to use that break to simply sip coffee and read Kinfolk.
I've been looking for some magical reset button in my brain. One that helps me get past recent upsets and flailing willpower. One that catches me up on my sleep. It's just not going to happen like that. So I have to let go of any idea that this Sunday will be restorative in a major way... I have to simply enjoy it for what it is.
What will be restorative in a major way is a mystery to me. I've made mistakes about what it could be... the next long weekend, or the right conversation with the right person. Even that trip to the flower market. Or the candle lit when I finally move to the sofa after an evening's work. These are all lovely things and I'm wouldn't wish myself without. But miniature moments of beauty aren't curative when there's something larger and more troubling.
Still, I know no matter what I write here this Sunday will pass and there'll be no new revelation, no clear new path. My troubled thoughts will stay troubled and I'll take my small comforts in those beautiful little things, those soothing pictures and tiny white flowers. I'll toughen my shell again for the week ahead and look to the new moon for a sign of hope.
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