Two lovely things* have happened. They’ve made me feel a bit more sunshiney about writing and my ability to, you know, do it and stuff. And they’re not big things, really. They’re just small, magic things. They are, in the words of my dad (via Jimmy Buffett), “stuff that works”.
The first is that my copies of Clementine have arrived. And they are pretty and they have my words in them and I like my words. And, after the first night, when I hid them under TIger’s pyjamas because I just … couldn’t … even … they are making me happy. They are happy books.
The second is that I met up today with my dear, dear friend, Rachel. Rachel who is joy and who is positivity and who told me that mostly everyone (but probably not Tony Abbott or other actual psychopaths and such), feels like me; like a fraud; like they’re unworthy. She made me feel worthy and happy and just … okay.
This is thanks for friendship. This is thanks for those people who make you feel like you’re okay. This is thanks for people (those lovely Onions, in this case), who have faith in you when you don’t have faith in yourself.
And, through all of it, this is thanks for Small People (even when they mostly have bare bottoms and there is the constant terrifying threat of Wee On Carpet because toilet training), who hug you and kiss you and make you feel like the Earth is a fine place to be, even if you don’t have fifteen shiny new Clementines under her pyjamas.
So that’s three things, really, isn’t it? So much to be grateful for. Even more than I first thought.
This is a ramble. This is gratitude. It has no sensible finish, so I give you squirrels hugging instead.
* Nb, since posting this, another lovely thing has happened. I apologise to all of you who think “foozball is the devil”, but … Go, you dear, dear Hawkies! Thank you, Laurel, for reminding me of this extra piece of loveliness 🙂