111. Having My Cake

Went to the family, down south, with Char and her grandma. It was mum-in-law’s birthday and a good excuse to go, although the trip is long and I get to drive every time.

Thought about life and death, and clients, and dreams, and Jay, and whether or not life would bring Good – or more of it – in the unknown future.

But I also got some nice cake that my grandma-in-law had made with all her skills.

I take it as a good side-effect of getting older that despite my thoughts still rampaging in their own ways, I am more and more able to let them, while I have my cake.

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70. Only Possible Moments

it’s not just that my friend helps with a trivial thing, like moving a table, although it costs him on a busy schedule. He would have done that anyway, on most days.

But he helps *and* knows.

Knows me. Knows children.

Knows changes. Knows time.

And cares.

And I know that he knows and cares.

That moment today with him then … would not have been possible 25 years ago … because some moments need to mature.

To grow old in the right way. For the right purpose.

Like something you drink that warms you for a long time after.

That’s worth it. Worth our age.

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69. Gossamer Light

Then it struck me, after having asked my higher angels for a bit of aid, that I felt incredibly … grateful for all my stuff, all the beautiful important useful things I have with or without histories.

Even the shampoo in the bathroom …

Or an old DVD I have to get rid off anyway to create shelfspace for babystuff …

Even those.
I. Felt. Grateful. For my stuff. All of it.

No matter how messy it was.

No matter that other people have more stuff and many other people have a lot less. I didn’t compare at all, up or down.

I. Just. Felt. Deeply. Grateful.

For my stuff.

That was also not the worst of feelings.

In fact it was very beautiful, even if it was gossamer.

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