Sun streaming through the bedroom window called me awake this morning. Not ready to get up, I snuggled deeper into my bed and began listing all the little things welcoming me into this new day. The feel of crisp clean sheets. Sunshine. A warm bedroom. Being able to wiggle my toes. The luxury of rolling over in my bed. Comfortable clothes. Being able to walk to the bathroom. An indoor bathroom. Looking forward to my morning coffee.
Life, I find, is made up of a myriad of little things. Over time, I’ve found that giving attention to minute details helps me focus on the bigger things, just as it’s the details that point to the central focus in a great painting.
Coming in from my walk I brewed another cup of coffee and reached into the refrigerator for some left-overs for my breakfast. My living alone menu and routine has certainly shifted since he died. My breakfast is often left-overs while my evening meal may be two pieces of toast and an apple. Who says we have to eat certain things at certain times? The importance, I find, lies in appreciating my amazing luck in having any food at all.
It’s been two days since we celebrated Thanksgiving. Cleaning up after the meal, we divided up the left-overs. What a blessing to have enough for several more meals. Perhaps it was feeling his loss so acutely on Thanksgiving evening, but I’ve become aware of all the little things that fill each day, just as they did when he was alive; those not so little little things that reassure me that life is still worth living, .such as being blessed with family, friends, adequate resources, my church community, activities and hobbies I enjoy doing, responsibilities that tie me to the larger community.
Years of practicing gratitude are paying off now that I don’t have my partner to fill empty moments. It’s a rare day that I find the details of daily living meaningless. Heating water for a cup of tea, a few minutes ago, I found myself remembering Kitty Kallen’s once popular: “Blow me a kiss from across the room
Say I look nice when I’m not
Touch my hair as you pass my chair
Little things mean a lot
Give me your arm as we cross the street
Call me at six on the dot
A line a day when you’re far away
Little things mean a lot
Don’t have to buy me diamonds and pearls
Champagne, sables and such
I never cared much for diamonds and pearls
But honestly honey, they just cost money
Give me your hand when I’ve lost the way
Give me your shoulder to cry on
Whether the day is bright or gray give me your heart to rely on
Send me the warmth of a secret smile
To show me you haven’t forgot
Now and forever, that always and ever
Little things mean a lot.”
Joyce Shutt is the author of Steps to Hope and is a veteran 12 stepper