The day was Friday, and just like any other morning, I woke up thinking of the following things: what to pack for the kids’ lunches, which coffee to brew, Vanhoutte’s hazel vanilla or Nescafe’s house blend, and how the heck I can overcome the daily resistance of the dreaded morning workout routine which seems to get harder and harder every year!
Oh, there’s another thing that’s been added to my morning’s running script in my head: What songs am I going to sing for my show in California in November?!?
So I went to the bathroom, but before going, I glanced at my phone’s prompts, a daily habit now, and briefly saw it: (paraphrasing)
I’ve been ignoring my signs for a very long time. My closest and dearest will tell you how many excuses I’ve made, how often I added all sorts of drama to the mix and frankly, it gets boring after a while. Thank YOU, to you who have listened, supported, put up with me.
As I Iistened to the last line of my present and possibly all-time favorite novel, Wild by Cheryl Strayed (CS), a single, unexpected tear formed in my left eye. Right there at the breakfast table while I was having my bacon, Canadian, of course, left-over cremini mushrooms sauteed in garlic butter and two handfuls of greens with homemade vinaigrette dressing.
I don’t want it to end. Too soon, it’s too soon.