Everything I Need

Everything I need shall be provided today. 


Everything.


When I read this, my shoulders dropped. 


Oh, how those shoulders love to cozy up to my ears! 


It felt so good, I read it again. Out loud.


Everything I need shall be provided today. 


Everything.


Yes, I thought. Okay.
Then a voice, Are you kidding me? 
And another, That's absurd!
And, you don't really believe that, do you?


In an effort to avoid an argument with the committee, I chose not to respond. Wandering with camera in hand, I repeated this mantra quietly to myself, settling my eyes (and lens) on the kitchen table:


tulips, books, Claire's book bag, tea, sunlight.


*Everything I need shall be provided today. 


 Everything.


* from The Language of Letting Go by Melody Beattie

Chamomile Sounds Good

I'd come up to see if Dad was ready for a cup of tea, maybe a bowl of oatmeal too. He was in bed, under the down comforter, green winter cap on his head. He was looking better, not so pale, eyes clear.

He said, "I've had an interesting revelation."

"What is that?" I said.

"It's come to me that it doesn't really matter if I live or die," he said.

"Oh."

"It's freeing," he said.

"Okay. So," I said, "it doesn't really matter whether you live or die. Freeing. Okay."

We looked at each other for a moment.

"Okay, so what kind of tea would you like?" I asked.

"Chamomile sounds good," he replied.