nearly perfect

There are days when I wake up and can hardly imagine getting out of my bed. Small exaggeration, yes. But I don’t want to get up. A slight headache. The knowledge it’s going to be a long day. Probably won’t be done until 8pm. Which for some people is normal but for me it seems late. Because last night was also. And tomorrow will be again.

I need to call regarding my dental insurance. I need to schedule a doctor appointment. I need to do a lot of things and I don’t want to do any of them. The minutiae of life. Nothing urgent or horrid. But still. I don’t want to go anywhere because I’m tired. But I run.

Forgetting as I keep doing that construction is marring my neighborhood running route. A man says something from across the road…. “You look excellent.” What an odd thing to say to someone running. My running form looks excellent? Because sir, let’s be real. I do not at this very moment look excellent. My dirty hair pulled back and wearing a too large sweatshirt. I sort of smile / say thanks from across the street and continue. My run shortened because of the construction.

Back home I get on with my morning. I’ve neglected to remember. When I dropped off the final girl last night, she sent a text to let me know she was in the apartment. And I sent back “love you.” Or something of that nature. Natural and perfect. Because I do adore her and she loves me back. And that’s what it’s all about. Yet how many times do I forget to remember?

I came across a video today of my daughter. Acting as a reporter for NYU, the college she attends. Part of her campus job. She seems a natural. She is a better public speaker than she realizes and it made me, of course, proud. Driving high school boys across town today I inquired as to whether they were a part of the guitar program at their high school. The school my son attended. I explained who my son, now a college senior is, and one expounded on the reputation my son has left behind. The guitar teacher had them watch my son’s University of Louisville senior recital. Another proud moment. He has made a name for himself. And most likely will continue to.

I dropped the final kid off tonight, and I said a little prayer. “Please God if he can be a successful basketball player, let it be. If he has a future in basketball (meaning a college scholarship), make it happen.” I don’t have a huge emotional investment. Not like with the girl I dropped last night. I would never tell him I love him as I drop him off. But yet, who knows if anyone else in the world prayed that for him today? So I did. And let it be.

My Tuesday piano student is one of my favorite kids. Mainly because of the above statement. Let It Be. She likes to play out of her dad’s Beatles songbook and honestly, she played “Here Comes the Sun” this evening much better than anything in her regular lesson book. Not that she isn’t good with the usual stuff, she just has more of a passion for The Beatles. And she’s a pretty chill kid. She’s a let it be kind of person, I think. Even though she’s only in fifth grade.

I don’t know why some people can’t accept. Love. Happiness. Joy. Why is there an agenda? A recipe. A distrust. Even though they like the songs. They certainly don’t live the songs. It baffles me. But it’s a waste of time to consider. I’ve learned that.

Yesterday one of our after school program girls said something profound. Yet extremely simple. The van ride from her school to the site. Out of the blue. “Sometimes life is confusing.”


Kids say the…. Yes, it’s true. Life is more than sometimes confusing. And I don’t have a clue. Yet I realize today, at the end of today, that today was a good day. Despite not wanting to start it, it ended well. Much yet unresolved. Much to be made known. But today was filled with people I care about and reminders. No answers. Possibly more questions. No resolution. Yet good.

I believe that’s what hope is. No answers. Possibly more questions. No resolution. Yet good. Nearly perfect. Or an expectation that it could be. Nearly perfect.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s