After revealing this day of defeat, which ended in a tiny pool of tears, the next morning began in questionable form, as I brought a mostly-empty cup of hot chocolate down from the attic and promptly spilled it to begin what I assumed would be another shit-show, only to have that be the only minor blip in the day Proof that just because things begin in messy fashion doesn’t mean they have to continue or end that way.
I lit a lavender candle – a candle which I’ve coddled and carried around for about two decades, and I’m not even sure why. Perhaps I wanted to save it as a decorative piece – a service which it performed admirably all this time. A couple of months ago, when I was shifting my hang-out space into the attic, I marked the moment by lighting this candle and enjoying its light and soft lavender scent. It brought the attic through the summer, though as fall neared I lit it less and less, to make it last through this very winter.
While we all remember and recall the days of defeat, it’s the days that follow that make up the bulk of our lives – the days when we simply get up and unremarkably lead our lives to the best, and sometimes the worst, of our abilities – trying to be good, trying to be right, trying to be ok with whatever the day turns out to hold. It is not the nature of humans to be perfect, but to perfectly inhabit the moment – and to try – always to try.
