I keep picturing carrots, shredded in the food processor, added to the batter, cake in the oven, then I see myself enjoying a piece of cake with hot coffee, a sunny afternoon just right for this moment. I imagine going to the grocery store for the carrots. Then I sit here, unmoving other than the effort it takes to type, to reach for coffee that is gradually cooling, to look out the window at the neighbor’s iron fence and empty flower pots beside the garage door.
Life is so amazing, I get stuck some days, listening to each inhale and exhale, tears playing behind my eyes, flooded with appreciation, wondering why I get to be so lucky.
In her shimmery blue, pleated dress, the one my son told her was, “Beautiful,” before reaching his hand out to touch it, she danced beside her husband of one hour. I stood in the dining room doorway and watched these two bright beings float and swing to the beat, all the time circling each other, radiant smiles never faltering.
There is no mundane in life. Not when we consider the brilliance of what cannot be seen outwardly: souls interacting; the moment two people know they have found “the one”; the inner process of creating a sculpture, poetry, music; what is not said when one friend holds another through a difficult hour.
I will almost certainly get to the grocery store before sunset, and once home, I may, among other important tasks, bake, and if the evening unfolds as expected, I will soon be drinking warm decaf, enjoying a piece of carrot cake.