I’ve done a lot of things lately. I completed a 1000 piece puzzle all by myself for the first time in my life, and I don’t think many people can say that. I also watched all of Schitt’s Creek in way too short an amount of time, googled how to fry an egg, and finished reading two books. I read every morning while I drink coffee and eat breakfast. Sometimes I read during lunch too.
In between all these things, I did a whole bunch of other stuff but it would take far too long to write them all down. Though I do think writing things down is important. Words are important. Or at least, certain combinations of them.
Or maybe it’s not writing things down that’s important, but rather, remembering. And I guess for me, writing things down has always been a way to preserve memories…like pressing the petals of a flower or an old ticket stub between the pages of a book.
What would I like to remember about this time? Well, I suppose I’d like to remember the sound of someone playing the guitar drifting through the wall, and the feeling I got when I looked out the window and saw snow on the ground on my second morning. I’d like to remember the kindness of old friends, and the comforting warmth of a mug of tea, and the lady I saw through the window today. She was seated at her desk working away at her computer. Her Christmas tree was still up and I could see the shapes of what looked like charming furniture filling up the room. She was probably doing something ordinary, like answering a work email, but I have a new-found appreciation for ordinary things. Like making toast, buttering it, and eating it with cheese. Or a plant on the windowsill. The glow of a TV screen across the road. Wearing slippers.
I like brushing my hair and lighting candles and watching people deciding when it’s safe to cross the road. And piles of dishes waiting to be washed, and coffee stains, and the sound of indistinct conversations. You know, ordinary things.