Small Miracles

 It’s 5:30 am on a Sunday morning, and I’m over at Laura’s house, having spent the night. She’ll get to sleep in this morning.

I just read an essay by Anne Lamott, part of her series on aging. She suggested spending some time looking around and appreciating the small miracles around us.

There’s a cozy fire going, which is comforting on a cold early morning. I’m sitting in Tony’s recliner, which Cara noted last night is still imbued with his spirit. He spent a lot of time in this chair in the last few years and months of his life, resting, trying to heal. 

I’m looking at all the photos of my beloved family. I told Avery what a miracle the cell phone is—we have so many photos and videos of her daddy, which we can look at any time. We won’t forget how he looked and how he sounded.