Small Pleasures

Right now I'm waiting for something big: I want this job I'm going after, and waiting is incredibly difficult.

And yet....

And yet, no matter what is going on in my life, life marches on.  Some of that marching is incredibly painful, because some of life is incredibly painful, but I count myself among the lucky ones because most of my life is pretty damn easy.

Easy.

Did I just say that?

Today I went to a benefit for an organization that provides diapers and other necessities to families living in poverty.  One of the speakers was a client of theirs: a young mother who had spent eight years of her life homeless.  Six months ago, she, her husband, and their five year old son were still living in a car.  Now they have an apartment - and a four month old baby.  She said she loves her new home, but sometimes she still feels homeless because the apartment is so empty of things.  Her son does not have a bed to sleep in.  And yet, she spoke of gratitude.  She had the courage to stand in a room of over 600 people and tell her painful story of need and humility.

My life is easy.

I had cancer (past tense).  And I had a huge support system to get me through it.  I got divorced (past tense).  And I had a huge support system to get me through it.  I have a meaningful job, even if I want a better one.  My daughter is well adjusted (while I was at the benefit, she stayed home and did homework).  I had to turn down social engagements this weekend because I could only fit so many things in; it's impossible to do it all.

My life is easy.  No matter how difficult some days are, I need to remember that.  My life is easy.  Education, family, friends, health.  Enough money to cover the basics of Maslow's pyramid; more money than many people in the world ever see, even when I'm living paycheck to paycheck.

My life is easy.

This weekend has been filled with small pleasures of ease.  Katherine had a friend over on Friday, and we went out to pizza.  On Saturday we did a day trip to a local island, and we hiked in sunshine, explored a bookstore, beachcombed, rode a ferry....all with friends.  We went in my shiny new car, which I never ever cease to be amazed by.  We slept in this morning, and then Katherine REALLY slept in, and I did chores, including cleaning out my closet and organizing it.

Never underestimate the beauty of an organized closet.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, the closet open, makes me smile today.  Tidy piles of sweaters and jeans; blazers lined up and facing the same way; scarves and gloves and hats in bins.  The order is appealing - so easy to choose an outfit when it's all organized! - and the matching wood hangers are a frivolous luxury that gives me a crazy amount of happiness (they make me feel like such a grown up!).  But the fact that I have a grown up wardrobe makes me happy, too.  I have enough; I have more than enough.  I have work clothes, and weekend clothes, and sporty clothes, and warm jackets, and fancy clothes.  I have casual dresses, professional dresses, and cocktail dresses.  I have heels, and flats, and boots, and running shoes, and sandals, and more.  I am prepared for sun, or snow, or rain.

I have enough.  I have more than enough.

I like to flip through Vogue magazine and look at pretty pictures of people far more beautiful than myself, wearing outfits that cost more than I make in a month, in locations I've never been able to visit.  It would be easy to compare myself to them (hey! I just did!) and feel bad about myself (but I don't).  I don't need to fit into Vogue's pages, and I never will, because though I enjoy the glossy perfection and the crazy quirky fashion (who wears that stuff, anyway?!), it's just eye candy and a bit of inspiration for the shape of a heel or a hemline or a color palette that I DO have access to.

I have enough.

Today, I'm taking in the small pleasures.  The blooms on the camelia bush, the dish of seashells (all collected on various walks), the fat candles I have burning on a Sunday evening as I wind down here and write to you,  The joy of a closet newly cleaned and organized, orderly and practical, and a reminder of how much I have, and how lucky I am.

Who knew that a closet could make me feel so good?  Not I, but I will take my pleasures where I can find them.  Lucky me, that I can.